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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-06-09 10:21:21 -0700 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-06-09 10:21:21 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/76257-0.txt b/76257-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f442ef5 --- /dev/null +++ b/76257-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9069 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76257 *** + + + + + + THE + CRIMSON CIRCLE + + BY + EDGAR WALLACE + + + + + HODDER AND STOUGHTON LTD + + + + +[DEDICATION] + + TO + BRYAN + + + + +_All the characters represented in this book are purely imaginary._ + + + + + Contents + + Prologue. The Nail + Chapter I. The Initiation + Chapter II. The Man Who Did Not Pay + Chapter III. The Girl Who Was Indifferent + Chapter IV. Mr. Felix Marl + Chapter V. The Girl Who Ran + Chapter VI. “Thalia Drummond is a Crook” + Chapter VII. The Stolen Idol + Chapter VIII. The Charge + Chapter IX. Thalia in the Police Court + Chapter X. The Summons of The Crimson Circle + Chapter XI. The Confession + Chapter XII. The Pointed Boots + Chapter XIII. Mr. Marl Squeezes a Little More + Chapter XIV. Thalia is Asked Out + Chapter XV. Thalia Joins the Gang + Chapter XVI. Mr. Marl Goes Out + Chapter XVII. The Blower of Bubbles + Chapter XVIII. “Flush” Barnet’s Story + Chapter XIX. Thalia Accepts an Offer + Chapter XX. The Key of River House + Chapter XXI. River House + Chapter XXII. The Messenger of The Circle + Chapter XXIII. The Woman in the Cupboard + Chapter XXIV. £10,000 Reward + Chapter XXV. The Tenant of River House + Chapter XXVI. The Bottle of Chloroform + Chapter XXVII. Mr. Parr’s Mother + Chapter XXVIII. A Shot in the Night + Chapter XXIX. “The Red Circle” + Chapter XXX. The Silencing of Froyant + Chapter XXXI. Thalia Answers a Few Questions + Chapter XXXII. A Trip to the Country + Chapter XXXIII. The Posters + Chapter XXXIV. Blackmailing a Government + Chapter XXXV. Thalia Lunches with a Cabinet Minister + Chapter XXXVI. The Circle Meets + Chapter XXXVII. “I Will See You--If You Are Alive” + Chapter XXXVIII. The Arrest of Thalia + Chapter XXXIX. A Prison Diet + Chapter XL. The Escape + Chapter XLI. Who is The Crimson Circle? + Chapter XLII. Mother + Chapter XLIII. The Story Continued + + + + + Prologue. + The Nail + +It is a ponderable fact that had not the 29th of a certain September +been the anniversary of Monsieur Victor Pallion’s birth, there would +have been no Crimson Circle mystery; a dozen men, now dead, would in +all probability be alive, and Thalia Drummond would certainly never +have been described by a dispassionate inspector of police as “a thief +and the associate of thieves.” + +M. Pallion entertained his three assistants to dinner at the Coq d’Or +in the city of Toulouse, and the proceedings were both joyous and +amiable. At three o’clock in the morning it dawned upon M. Pallion +that the occasion of his visit to Toulouse was the execution of an +English malefactor named Lightman. + +“My children,” he said gravely but unsteadily, “it is three hours and +the ‘red lady’ has yet to be assembled!” + +So they adjourned to the place before the prison where a trolley +containing the essential parts of the guillotine had been waiting +since midnight, and with a skill born of practice they erected the +grisly thing, and fitted the knife into its proper slots. + +But even mechanical skill is not proof against the heady wines of +southern France, and when they tried the knife it did not fall truly. + +“I will arrange this,” said M. Pallion, and drove a nail into the +frame at exactly the place where a nail should not have been driven. + +But he was getting flurried, for the soldiers had marched on to the +ground.… + +Four hours later (it was light enough for an enterprising photographer +to snap the prisoner close at hand), they marched a man from the +prison.… + +“Courage!” murmured M. Pallion. + +“Go to hell!” said the victim, now lying strapped upon the plank. + +M. Pallion pulled a handle and the knife fell… but only as far as the +nail. + +Three times he tried and three times he failed, and then the indignant +spectators broke through the military cordon, and the prisoner was +taken back into the gaol. + +Eleven years later that nail killed many people. + + + + + Chapter I. + The Initiation + +It was an hour when most respectable citizens were preparing for +bed, and the upper windows of the big, old-fashioned houses in the +square showed patches of light, against which the outlines of the +leafless trees, bending and swaying under the urge of the gale, were +silhouetted. A cold wind was sweeping up the river, and its outriders +penetrated icily into the remotest and most sheltered places. + +The man who paced slowly by the high iron railings shivered, though he +was warmly clad, for the unknown had chosen a rendezvous which seemed +exposed to the full blast of the storm. + +The débris of the dead autumn whirled in fantastic circles about his +feet, the twigs and leaves came rattling down from the trees which +threw their long gaunt arms above him, and he looked enviously at the +cheerful glow in the windows of a house where, did he but knock, he +would be received as a welcome guest. + +The hour of eleven boomed out from a nearby clock, and the last stroke +was reverberating when a car came swiftly and noiselessly into the +square and halted abreast of him. The two head-lamps burned dimly. +Within the closed body there was no spark of light. After a moment’s +hesitation the waiting man stepped to the car, opened the door, and +got in. He could only guess the outline of the driver’s figure in the +seat ahead, and he felt a curious thumping of heart as he realised the +terrific importance of the step he had taken. The car did not move, +and the man in the driver’s seat remained motionless. For a little +time there was a dead silence, which was broken by the passenger. + +“Well?” he asked nervously, almost irritably. + +“Have you decided?” asked the driver. + +“Should I be here if I hadn’t?” demanded the passenger. “Do you think +I’ve come out of curiosity? What do you want of me? Tell me that, and +I will tell you what I want of you.” + +“I know what you want of me,” said the driver. His voice was muffled +and indistinct, as one who spoke behind a veil. + +When the newcomer’s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he detected the +vague outline of the black silk cowl which covered the driver’s head. + +“You are on the verge of bankruptcy,” the driver went on. “You have +used money which was not yours to use, and you are contemplating +suicide. And it is not your insolvency which makes you consider this +way out. You have an enemy who has discovered something to your +discredit, something which would bring you into the hands of the +police. Three days ago you obtained from a firm of manufacturing +chemists, a member of which is a friend of yours, a particularly +deadly drug, which cannot be obtained from a retail chemist. You have +spent a week reading up poisons and their effects, and it is your +intention, unless something turns up which will save you from ruin, to +end your life either on Saturday or Sunday. I think it will be +Sunday.” + +He heard the man behind him gasp, and laughed softly. + +“Now, sir,” said the driver, “are you prepared for a consideration to +act for me?” + +“What do you want me to do?” demanded the man behind him shakily. + +“I ask no more than that you should carry out my instructions. I will +take care that you run no risks and that you are well paid. I am +prepared at this moment to place in your hands a very large sum of +money, which will enable you to meet your more pressing obligations. +In return for this I shall want you to put into circulation all the +money I send you, to make the necessary exchanges, to cover up the +trail of bills and bank-notes, the numbers of which are known to the +police; to dispose of bonds, which I cannot dispose of, and generally +to act as my agent----” he paused, adding significantly, “and to pay +on demand what I ask.” + +The man behind him did not reply for some time, and then he asked with +a hint of petulance: + +“What is the Crimson Circle?” + +“You,” was the startling reply. + +“I?” gasped the man. + +“You are of the Crimson Circle,” said the other carefully. “You have a +hundred comrades, none of whom will ever be known to you, none of whom +will ever know you.” + +“And you?” + +“I know them all,” said the driver. “You agree?” + +“I agree,” said the other after a pause. + +The driver half-turned in his seat and held out his hand. + +“Take this,” he said. + +“This” was a large, bulky envelope, and the newly initiated member of +the Crimson Circle thrust it into his pocket. + +“And now get out,” said the driver curtly, and the man obeyed without +question. + +He slammed the door behind him and walked abreast of the driver. He +was still curious as to his identity, and for his own salvation it was +necessary that he should know the man who drove. + +“Don’t light your cigar here,” said the driver, “or I shall think that +your smoking is really an excuse to strike a match. And remember this, +my friend, that the man who knows me, carries his knowledge to hell.” + +Before the other could reply the car moved on and the man with the +envelope stood watching its red tail light until it disappeared from +view. + +He was shaking from head to foot, and when he did light the cigar +which his chattering teeth gripped, the flame of the match quivered +tremulously. + +“That is that,” he said huskily, and crossed the road, to disappear in +one of the side-turnings. + +He was scarcely out of sight before a figure moved stealthily from the +doorway of a dark house and followed. It was the figure of a man tall +and broad, and he walked with difficulty, for he was naturally short +of breath. He had gone a hundred paces in his pursuit before he +realised that he still held in his hand the ship’s binoculars through +which he had been watching. + +When he reached the main street his quarry had vanished. He had +expected as much and was not perturbed. He knew where to find him. But +who was in the car? He had read the number and could trace its owner +in the morning. Mr. Felix Marl grinned. Had he so much as guessed the +character of the interview he had overlooked, he would not have been +amused. Stronger men than he had grown stiff with fear at the menace +of the Crimson Circle. + + + + + Chapter II. + The Man Who Did Not Pay + +Philip Bassard paid, and lived, for apparently the Crimson Circle +kept faith; Jacques Rizzi, the banker, also paid, but in a panic. He +died from natural causes a month later, having a weak heart. Benson, +the railway lawyer, pooh-poohed the threat and was found dead by the +side of his private saloon. + +Mr. Derrick Yale, with his amazing gifts, ran down the coloured man +who had crept into Benson’s private car and killed him before he threw +the body from the window, and the coloured man was hanged, without, +however, revealing the identity of his employer. The police might +sneer at Yale’s psychometrical powers--as they did--but within +forty-eight hours he had led the police to the crimp’s house at +Yareside and the dazed murderer had confessed. + +Following this tragedy many men must have paid without reporting the +matter to the police, for there was a long period during which no +reference to the Crimson Circle found its way into the newspapers. And +then one morning there came to the breakfast table of James Beardmore, +a square envelope containing a card, on which was stamped a Crimson +Circle. + +“You are interested in the melodrama of life, Jack--read that.” + +James Stamford Beardmore tossed the message across the table to his +son and proceeded to open the next letter in the pile which stood +beside his plate. + +Jack retrieved the message from the floor, where it had fallen, and +examined it with a little frown. It was a very ordinary letter-card, +save that it bore no address. A big circle of crimson touched its four +edges and had the appearance of having been printed with a rubber +stamp, for the ink was unevenly distributed. In the centre of the +circle, written in printed characters, were the words: + + + “_One hundred thousand represents only a small portion of your + possessions. You will pay this in notes to a messenger I will send in + response to an advertisement in the ‘Tribune’ within the next + twenty-four hours, stating the exact hour convenient to you. This is + the final warning._” + + +There was no signature. + +“Well?” + +Old Jim Beardmore looked up over his spectacles and his eyes were +smiling. + +“The Crimson Circle!” gasped his son. + +Jim Beardmore laughed aloud at the concern in the boy’s voice. + +“Yes, the Crimson Circle--I have had four of ’em!” + +The young man stared at him. + +“Four?” he repeated. “Good heavens! Is that why Yale has been staying +with us?” + +Jim Beardmore smiled. + +“That is a reason,” he said. + +“Of course, I knew that he was a detective, but I hadn’t the slightest +idea----” + +“Don’t worry about this infernal circle,” interrupted his father a +little impatiently. “I’m not scared of them. Froyant is in terror of +his life that he will be marked down. And I don’t wonder. He and I +have made a few enemies in our time.” + +James Beardmore, with his hard, lined face and his stubbly grey beard, +might have been mistaken for the grandfather of the good-looking young +man who sat opposite to him. The Beardmore fortune had been painfully +won. It had materialised from the wreckage of dreams and had its +beginnings in the privations, the dangers and the heartaches of a +prospector’s life. This man whom Death had stalked on the waterless +plains of the Kalahari, who had scraped in the mud of the Vale River +for illusory diamonds, and thawed out his claim in the Klondyke, had +faced too many real dangers to be greatly disturbed by the threat of +the Crimson Circle. For the moment his perturbation was based on a +more tangible peril, not to himself, but to his son. + +“I’ve got a whole lot of faith in your good sense, Jack,” he said, “so +don’t be hurt by anything I’m going to say. I’ve never interfered in +your amusements or questioned your judgment--but--do you think that +you’re being wise just now?” + +Jack understood. + +“You mean about Miss Drummond, father?” + +The older man nodded. + +“She’s Froyant’s secretary,” began the youth. + +“I know she is Froyant’s secretary,” said the other, “and she’s none +the worse for that. But the point is, Jack, do you know anything more +about her?” + +The young man rolled his napkin deliberately. His face was red and +there was a queer set look about his jaw which secretly amused Jim. + +“I like her. She is a friend of mine. I’ve never made love to her, if +that is what you mean, dad, and I rather think our friendship would be +at an end if I did.” + +Jim nodded. He had said all that was necessary and now he took up a +more bulky envelope and looked at it curiously. Jack saw that it bore +French postage stamps and wondered who was the correspondent. + +Tearing open the flap, the old man took out a pad of correspondence, +which included yet another envelope heavily sealed. He read the +superscription and his nose wrinkled. + +“Ugh!” he said, and put the envelope down unopened. He glanced through +the remainder of the correspondence, then looked across at his son. + +“Never trust a man or woman until you know the worst of them,” he +said. “I’ve got a man coming to see me to-day who is a respectable +member of society. He has a record as black as my hat and yet I’m +going to do business with him--I know the worst!” + +Jack laughed. Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of +their guest. + +“Good morning, Yale--did you sleep well?” asked the old man. “Ring for +some more coffee, Jack.” + +Derrick Yale’s visit had been an unmixed pleasure to Jack Beardmore. +He was at the age when romance had its full appeal and the +companionship of the most commonplace detective would have brought him +a peculiar joy. But the glamour which surrounded Yale was the glamour +of the supernatural. This man had unusual and peculiar qualities which +made him unique. The delicate æsthetic face, the grave mystery of his +eyes, the very gesture of his long, sensitive hands, were part of his +uniqueness. + +“I never sleep,” he said good-humouredly as he unrolled his serviette. +He held the silver napkin ring for a second between his two fingers, +and James Beardmore watched him with amusement. As for Jack, his eager +admiration was unconcealed. + +“Well?” asked the old man. + +“Who handled this last has had very bad news--some near relation is +desperately ill.” + +Beardmore nodded. + +“Jane Higgins was the servant who laid the table,” he said. “She had a +letter this morning saying that her mother was dying.” + +Jack gasped. + +“And you felt that in the serviette ring?” he asked in amazement. “How +do you get that impression, Mr. Yale?” + +Derrick Yale shook his head. + +“I don’t attempt to explain,” he said quietly. “All that I know is +that the moment I took up my serviette I had a sensation of profound +and poignant sorrow. It is weird, isn’t it?” + +“But how did you know about her mother?” + +“I traced it somehow,” said the other almost brusquely; “it is a +matter of deduction. Have you any news, Mr. Beardmore?” + +For answer Jim handed him the card he had received that morning. + +Yale read the message, then weighed the card on the palm of his white +hand. + +“Posted by a sailor,” he said, “a man who has been in prison and has +recently lost a great deal of money.” + +Jim Beardmore laughed. + +“Which I shall certainly not replace,” he said, rising from the table. +“Do you take these warnings seriously?” + +“I take them very seriously,” said Derrick in his quiet way. “So +seriously that I do not advise you to leave this house except in my +company. The Crimson Circle,” he went on, arresting Beardmore’s +indignant protest with a characteristic gesture, “is, I admit, +vulgarly melodramatic in its operations, but it will be no solace to +your heirs to learn that you have died theatrically.” + +Jim Beardmore was silent for a time, and his son regarded him +anxiously. + +“Why don’t you go abroad, father?” he asked, and the old man snapped +round on him. + +“Go abroad be damned!” he roared. “Run away from a cheap Black Hand +gang? I’ll see them----!” + +He did not mention their destination, but they could guess. + + + + + Chapter III. + The Girl Who Was Indifferent + +A heavy weight lay on Jack Beardmore’s mind as he walked slowly +across the meadows that morning. His feet carried him instinctively in +the direction of the little valley which lay a mile from the house, +and in the exact centre of which ran the hedge which marked the +division between the Beardmore and Froyant estates. It was a glorious +morning. The storm of wind and rain which had swept the country the +night before had blown itself out, and the world lay bathed in yellow +sunlight. Far away, beyond the olive-green coverts that crowned Penton +Hill, he caught a glimpse of Harvey Froyant’s big white mansion. Would +she venture out with the ground so sodden and the grasses soaked with +rain, he wondered? + +He stopped by a big elm tree on the lip of the valley and cast an +anxious glance along the untidy hedge, until his eyes rested on a tiny +summer house which the former owners of Tower House had +erected--Harvey Froyant, who loathed solitude, would never have been +guilty of such extravagance. + +There was nobody in sight, and his heart sank. Ten minutes’ walking +brought him to the gap he had made in the fence, and he stepped +through. The girl who sat in the tiny house might have heard his sigh +of relief. + +She looked round, then rose with some evidence of reluctance. + +She was remarkably pretty, with her fair hair and flawless skin, but +there was no welcome in her eyes as she came slowly toward him. + +“Good morning,” she said coolly. + +“Good morning, Thalia,” he ventured, and her frown returned. + +“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said, and he knew that she meant what she +said. Her attitude toward him puzzled and worried him. For she was a +thing of laughter and bubbling life. He had once surprised her chasing +a hare, and had watched, spellbound, the figure of this laughing Diana +as her little feet flew across the field in pursuit of the scared +beast. He had heard her singing, too, and the very joy of life was +vibrant in her voice--but he had seen her so depressed and gloomy that +he had feared she was ill. + +“Why are you always so stiff and formal with me?” he grumbled. + +For a second a ghost of a smile showed at the corner of her mouth. + +“Because I’ve read books,” she said solemnly, “and poor girl +secretaries who aren’t stiff and formal with millionaire’s sons +usually come to a bad end!” + +She had a trick of directness which was very disconcerting. + +“Besides,” she said, “there is no reason why I shouldn’t be stiff and +formal. It is the conventional attitude which people adopt toward +their fellow creatures, unless they are very fond of them, and I’m not +very fond of you.” + +She said this calmly and deliberately, and the young man’s face went +red. He felt a fool, and cursed himself for provoking this act of +cruelty. + +“I will tell you something, Mr. Beardmore,” she went on in her even +tone. “Something which you haven’t realised. When a boy and girl are +thrown together on a desert island, it is only natural that the boy +gets the idea that the girl is the only girl in the world. All his +wayward fancies are concentrated on one woman and as the days pass she +grows more and more wonderful in his eyes. I’ve read a lot of these +desert island stories, and I’ve seen a lot of pictures that deal with +that interesting situation, and that is how it strikes me. You are on +a desert island here--you spend too much time on your estate, and the +only things you see are rabbits and birds and Thalia Drummond. You +should go into the city and into the society of people of your own +station.” + +She turned from him with a nod, for she had seen her employer +approaching, had watched him out of the corner of her eye as he +stopped to survey them, and had guessed his annoyance. + +“I thought you were doing the house accounts, Miss Drummond,” he said +with asperity. + +He was a skinny man, in the early fifties, colourless, sharp-featured, +prematurely bald. He had an unpleasant habit of baring his long yellow +teeth when he asked a question, a grimace which in some curious way +suggested his belief that the answer would be an evasion. + +“Morning, Beardmore,” he jerked the salutation grudgingly and turned +again to his secretary. + +“I don’t like to see you wasting your time, Miss Drummond,” he said. + +“I am not wasting either your time or mine, Mr. Froyant,” she answered +calmly. “I have finished the accounts--here!” She tapped the worn +leather portfolio which was under her arm. + +“You could have done the work in my library,” he complained; “there is +no need to go into the wilderness.” + +He stopped and rubbed his long nose and glanced from the girl to the +silent young man. + +“Very good; that will do,” he said. “I am going to see your father, +Beardmore. Perhaps you will walk with me?” + +Thalia was already on her way to Tower House, and Jack had no excuse +for lingering. + +“Don’t occupy that girl’s time, Beardmore, don’t, please,” said +Froyant testily. “You’ve no idea how much she has to do--and I’m sure +your father wouldn’t like it.” + +Jack was on the point of saying something offensive, but checked +himself. He loathed Harvey Froyant, and at the moment hated him for +his domineering attitude toward the girl. + +“That class of girl,” began Mr. Froyant, turning to walk by the side +of the hedge toward the gate at the end of the valley, “that class of +girl----” he stood still and stared. “Who the devil has broken through +the hedge?” he demanded, pointing with his stick. + +“I did,” said Jack savagely. “It is our hedge, anyway, and it saves +half a mile--come on, Mr. Froyant.” + +Harvey Froyant made no comment as he stepped gingerly through the +hedge. + +They walked slowly up the hill toward the big elm tree where Jack had +stood looking down into the valley. + +Mr. Harvey Froyant preserved a tight-lipped silence. He was a stickler +for the conventions, where their observations benefited himself. + +They had reached the crest of the rise, when suddenly his arm was +gripped, and he turned to see Jack Beardmore, staring at the bole of +the tree. Froyant followed the direction of his eye and took a step +backward, his unhealthy face a shade paler. Painted on the tree trunk +was a rough circle of crimson, and the paint was yet wet. + + + + + Chapter IV. + Mr. Felix Marl + +Jack Beardmore looked round, scanning the country. The only human +being in sight was a man who was walking slowly away from them, +carrying a bag in his hand. Jack shouted, and the man turned. + +“Who are you?” demanded Jack. Then, “What are you doing here?” + +The stranger was a tall, stoutish man, and the exertion of carrying +his grip had left him a little breathless. It was some time before he +could reply. + +“My name is Marl,” he said, “Felix Marl. You may have heard of me. I +think you are young Mr. Beardmore, aren’t you?” + +“That is my name,” said Jack. “What are you doing here?” he asked +again. + +“They told me there was a short cut from the railway station, but it +is not so short as they promised,” said Mr. Marl, breathing +stertorously. “I’m on my way to see your father.” + +“Have you been near that tree?” asked Jack, and Marl glared at him. + +“Why should I go near any tree?” he demanded aggressively. “I tell you +I’ve come straight across the fields.” + +By this time Harvey Froyant arrived, and apparently recognised the +new-comer. + +“This is Mr. Marl; I know him. Marl, did you see anybody near that +tree?” + +The man shook his head. Apparently the tree and its secret was a +mystery to him. + +“I never knew there was a tree there,” he said. “What--what has +happened?” + +“Nothing,” said Harvey Froyant sharply. + +They came to the house soon after, Jack carrying the visitor’s bag. He +was not impressed by the big man’s appearance. His voice was coarse, +his manner familiar, and Jack wondered what association this uncouth +specimen of humanity could have with his father. + +They were nearing the house when suddenly and for no obvious reason +the stout Mr. Marl emitted a frightened squeal and leapt back. There +was no doubt of his fear. It was written visibly in the blanched +cheeks and the quivering lips of the man, who was shaking from head to +foot. + +Jack could only look at him in astonishment--and even Harvey Froyant +was startled into an interest. + +“What the hell is wrong with you, Marl?” he asked savagely. + +His own nerves were on edge, and the sight of the big man’s +undisguised terror was a further strain which he could scarcely +endure. + +“Nothin’--nothin’,” muttered Marl huskily. “I’ve been----” + +“Drinking, I should think,” snapped Froyant. + +After seeing the man into the house Jack hurried off in search of +Derrick Yale. He discovered the detective in the shrubbery sitting in +a big cane chair, his chin upon his breast, his arms folded, a +characteristic attitude of his. + +Yale looked up at the sound of the young man’s footsteps. + +“I can’t tell you,” he said, before Jack had framed his question, and +then, seeing the look of astonishment on his face, he laughed. “You +were going to ask me what scared Marl, weren’t you?” + +“I came with that intention,” laughed Jack. “What an extraordinary +fellow you are, Mr. Yale! Did you see his extraordinary exhibition of +funk?” + +Derrick Yale nodded. + +“I saw him just before he had his shock,” he said. “You can see the +field path from here.” + +He frowned. + +“He reminds me of somebody,” he said slowly, “yet I cannot for the +life of me tell who it is. Is he a frequent visitor here? Your father +told me he was coming, and I guessed it was he.” + +Jack shook his head. + +“This is the first time I’ve seen him,” he said. “I remember now, +though, that father and Froyant have had some business dealings with a +man named Marl--dad mentioned him one day. I think he is a land +speculator. Father is rather interested in land just now. By the way, +I have seen the mark of the Crimson Circle,” he added, and described +the newly-painted “O” he had found on the elm. + +Instantly Yale lost interest in Mr. Marl. + +“It was not on the tree when I went down into the valley,” said Jack. +“I’ll swear to that. It must have been painted whilst I was talking +to--to a friend. The trunk is out of sight from the boundary fence, +and it was quite possible for somebody to have painted the sign +without being seen. What does it mean, Mr. Yale?” + +“It means trouble,” said Yale shortly. + +He rose abruptly and began pacing the flagged walk, and Jack, after +waiting a little while, left him to his meditations. + +In the meantime, Mr. Felix Marl was comparatively a useless third of a +conference which dealt with the transfer of lands. Marl was, as Jack +had said, a land speculator, and he had come that morning bringing a +promising proposition which he was wholly incapable of explaining. + +“I can’t help it, gentlemen,” he said, and for the fourth time his +trembling hand rose to his lips. “I’ve had a bit of a shock this +morning.” + +“What was that?” + +But Marl seemed incapable of explanation. He could only shake his head +helplessly. + +“I’m not fit to discuss things calmly,” he said. “You’ll have to put +the matter off until to-morrow.” + +“Do you think I’ve come here to-day for the purpose of listening to +that sort of nonsense?” snarled Mr. Froyant. “I tell you I want this +business settled. So do you, Beardmore.” + +Jim Beardmore, who was indifferent as to whether the matter was +settled then or the following week, laughed. + +“I don’t know that it is very important,” he said. “If Mr. Marl is +upset, why should we bother him? Perhaps you’ll stay here to-night, +Marl?” + +“No, no, no,” the man’s voice rose almost to a shout. “No, I won’t +stay here, if you don’t mind--I would much rather not!” + +“Just as you like,” said Jim Beardmore indifferently, and folded up +the papers he had prepared for signature. + +They walked out into the hall together, and there Jack found them. + +Beardmore’s car carried the visitor and his bag back to the station, +and from there on Mr. Marl’s conduct was peculiar. He registered his +bag through to the city, but he himself descended at the next station, +and for a man who so disliked walking, and was by nature so averse +from physical exercise, he displayed an almost heroic spirit, for he +set forth to walk the nine miles which separated him from the +Beardmore estate--and he did not go by the shortest route. + +It was nearing nightfall when Mr. Marl made his furtive way into a +thick plantation on the edge of the Beardmore property. + +He sat down, a tired, dusty but determined man, and waited for the +night to close down over the countryside. And during the period of +waiting, he examined with tender care the heavy automatic pistol he +had taken from his bag in the train. + + + + + Chapter V. + The Girl Who Ran + +“I can’t understand why that fellow hasn’t come back this morning,” +said Jim Beardmore with a frown. + +“Which fellow?” asked Jack carelessly. + +“I’m speaking of Marl,” said his father. + +“Was that the large-sized gentleman I saw yesterday?” asked Derrick +Yale. + +They were standing on the terrace of the house, which, from its +elevated position, gave them a view across the country. + +The morning train had come and gone. They could see the trail of white +smoke it left as it disappeared into the foothills nine miles away. + +“Yes. I’d better ’phone Froyant, and tell him not to come over.” + +Jim Beardmore stroked his stubbly chin. + +“Marl puzzles me,” he said. “He is a brilliant fellow I believe, a +reformed thief I know--at least I hope he is reformed. What upset him +yesterday, Jack? He came into the library looking like death.” + +“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Jack. “I think he has a weak +heart, or something of the sort. He told me he gets these spasms +occasionally.” + +Beardmore laughed softly, and going into the house returned with a +walking-stick. + +“I’m going for a stroll, Jack. No, you needn’t come along. I’ve one or +two things I wish to think out, and I promise you, Yale, I won’t leave +the grounds, though I think you attach too much importance to the +threats of these ruffians.” + +Yale shook his head. + +“What of the sign on the tree?” he asked. + +Jim Beardmore snorted contemptuously. + +“It will take more than that to extract a hundred thousand from me,” +he said. + +He waved a farewell at them as he went down the broad stone steps, and +they watched him walking slowly across the park. + +“Do you really think my father is in any kind of danger?” asked Jack. + +Yale, who had been staring after the figure, turned with a start. + +“In danger?” he repeated, and then after a second’s hesitation. “Yes, +I believe there is very serious danger for him in the next day or +two.” + +Jack turned his troubled gaze upon the disappearing figure. + +“I hope you’re wrong,” he said. “Father doesn’t seem to take the +matter as seriously as you.” + +“That is because your father has not the same experience,” said the +detective, “but I understand that he saw Chief Inspector Parr, and the +inspector thought there was considerable danger.” + +Jack chuckled in spite of his fears. + +“How do the lion and the lamb amalgamate?” he asked. “I didn’t think +that head-quarters had much use for private men like you, Mr. Yale?” + +“I admire Parr,” said Derrick slowly. “He’s slow, but thorough. I am +told that he is one of the most conscientious men at head-quarters, +and I fancy that the head-quarters chiefs have treated him badly over +the last Crimson Circle crime. They have practically told him that if +he cannot run the organisation to earth he must send in his +resignation.” + +Whilst they were speaking, the figure of Mr. Beardmore had disappeared +into the gloom of a little wood on the edge of the estate. + +“I worked with him during the last Circle murder,” Derrick Yale went +on, “and he struck me----” + +He stopped, and the two men looked at one another. + +There was no mistaking the sound. It was a shot near and distinct, and +it came from the direction of the wood. In an instant Jack had leapt +over the balustrade and was racing across the meadow, Derrick Yale +behind him. + +Twenty paces along the woodland path they found Jim Beardmore lying on +his face, and he was quite dead, and even as Jack was staring down at +his father with horrified eyes, a girl emerged from the wood at the +farther end, and stopping only long enough to wipe with a handful of +grass something that was red from her hands, she flew along the shadow +of the hedge which divided the Froyant estate. + +Never once did Thalia Drummond look back until she reached the shelter +of the little summer house. Her face was drawn and white, and her +breath came gaspingly as she stood for a second in the doorway of the +little hut, and looked back to the wood. A swift glance round and she +was in the house and on her knees tugging with quivering hands at the +end of a floor board. It came up disclosing a black cavity. Another +second’s hesitation, and she threw into the hole the revolver she had +held in her hand, and dropped the board back into its place. + + + + + Chapter VI. + “Thalia Drummond is a Crook” + +The Commissioner looked down at the newspaper cutting before him and +tugged at his grey moustache. Inspector Parr, who knew the signs, +watched with an apparently detached interest. + +He was a short, thick-set man, so lacking in inches that it was +remarkable that he had ever satisfied the stringent requirements of +the police authorities. His age was something below fifty, but his big +red face was unlined. It was a face from whence every indication of +intelligence and refinement was absent. The round, staring eyes were +bovine in their lack of expression, the big fleshy nose, the heavy +cheeks, pouched beneath the jaws, and the half-bald head, were units +of his unimpressiveness. + +The Commissioner picked up the cutting. + +“Listen to this,” he said curtly, and read. It was the editorial of +the _Morning Monitor_ and it was direct to a point of offensiveness. + + + “‘For the second time during the past year the country has been + shocked and outraged by the assassination of a prominent man. It is + not necessary to give here the details of this Crimson Circle crime, + particulars of which appear on another page. But it is very necessary + that we should state in emphatic and unmistakable terms that we view + with consternation the seeming helplessness of police head-quarters to + deal with this criminal gang. Inspector Parr, who has devoted himself + for the past year to tracking the murdering blackmailers, can offer us + nothing more than vague promises of revelations which never + materialise. It is obvious that police head-quarters needs a thorough + overhauling, and the introduction of new blood, and we trust that + those responsible for the government of the country, will not hesitate + to make the drastic changes which are necessary.’” + + +“Well,” growled Colonel Morton, “what do you think of that, Parr?” + +Mr. Parr rubbed his big chin and said nothing. + +“James Beardmore was murdered after due warning had been given to the +police,” said the Commissioner deliberately. “He was shot within sight +of his house, and the murderer is at large. This is the second bad +case, Parr, and I’ll tell you candidly that it is my intention to act +on the advice which this newspaper gives.” + +He tapped the cutting suggestively. + +“On the previous occasion you allowed Mr. Yale to get away with all +the kudos for the capture of the murderer. You have seen Mr. Yale, I +presume?” + +The detective nodded. + +“And what does he say?” + +Mr. Parr shifted uneasily on his feet. + +“He told me a lot of nonsense about a dark man with toothache.” + +“How did he get that?” asked the Commissioner quickly. + +“From the shell of the cartridge he found on the ground,” said the +detective. “I don’t take any notice of this psychometrical stuff----” + +The Commissioner leant back in his chair and sighed. + +“I don’t think you take notice of any stuff that is serviceable, +Parr,” he said, “and don’t sneer at Yale. That man has unusual and +peculiar gifts. The fact that you don’t understand them, does not make +them any less peculiar.” + +“Do you mean to say, sir,” said Parr, stirred into protest, “that a +man can take a cartridge in his hand and tell you from that the +appearance of the person who last handled it and what he was thinking +about? Why, it is absurd!” + +“Nothing is absurd,” said the Commissioner quietly. “The science of +psychometry has been practised for years. Some people, unusually +sensitive to impression, are able to tell the most remarkable things, +and Yale is one of these.” + +“He was there when the murder was committed,” replied Parr. “He was +with Mr. Beardmore’s son, not a hundred yards away, and yet he did not +catch the murderer.” + +The Commissioner nodded. + +“Neither have you,” he said. “Twelve months ago you told me of your +scheme for trapping the Crimson Circle, and I agreed. We’ve both +expected a little too much for your plan, I think. You must try +something else. I hate to say it, but there it is.” + +Parr did not answer for a time, and then to the Commissioner’s +surprise, he pulled up a chair to the desk and sat down uninvited. + +“Colonel,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something,” and he was so +earnest, so unlike his usual self, that the Commissioner could only +look at him in amazement. + +“The Crimson Circle gang is easy to get. I can find every one of them, +and will find them if you will give me time. But it is the hub of the +wheel that I’m after. If I can get the hub the spokes don’t count. But +you’ve got to give me a little more authority than I have at present.” + +“A little more authority?” said the dumbfounded Commissioner. “What +the devil do you mean?” + +“I’ll explain,” said the bovine Mr. Parr, and he explained to such +purpose that he left the Commissioner a very silent and a very +thoughtful man. + +After he left head-quarters, Mr. Parr’s first call was at an office in +the centre of the city. + +On the third floor, in a tiny suite, which was distinguished only by +the name of the occupant, Mr. Derrick Yale was waiting for him, and a +greater contrast between the two men could not be imagined. + +Yale, the overstrung, nervous, and sensitive dreamer; Parr, solid and +beefy, seemingly incapable of an independent thought. + +“How did your interview go on, Parr?” + +“Not very well,” said Parr, ruefully. “I think the Commissioner’s got +one against me. Have you discovered anything?” + +“I’ve discovered your man with the toothache,” was the astonishing +reply. “His name is Sibly; he is a seafaring man, and was seen in the +vicinity of the house the following day. Yesterday,” he picked up a +telegram, “he was arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct, and in +his possession was found an automatic pistol, which I should imagine +was the weapon with which the crime was committed. You remember that +the bullet which was extracted from poor Beardmore, was obviously +fired from an automatic.” + +Parr gaped at him in amazement. + +“How did you find this out?” + +And Derrick Yale laughed softly. + +“You haven’t a great deal of faith in my deductions,” he said with a +glint of humour in his eyes. “But when I felt that cartridge I was as +certain that I could see the man as I am certain I can see you. I sent +one of my own staff down to make enquiries, with this result.” He +picked up the telegram. + +Mr. Parr stood, a heavy frown disfiguring what little claim to beauty +he might have. + +“So they’ve caught him,” he said softly. “Now I wonder if he wrote +this?” + +He took out a pocket-book, and Derrick Yale saw him extract a scrap of +paper which had evidently been burnt, for the edges were black. + +Yale took the scrap from his hand. + +“Where did you find this?” he asked. + +“I raked it out of the ashpan at Beardmore’s place yesterday,” he +said. + +The writing was in a large scrawling hand, and the scrap ran: + + + _You alone_ + _me alone_ + _Block B_ + _Graft_ + + +“‘Me alone… you alone,’” read Yale. “‘Block B… Graft’?” + +He shook his head. + +“It is Greek to me.” + +He balanced the letter upon the palm of his hand and shook his head. + +“I can’t even feel an impression,” he said. “Fire destroys the aura.” + +Parr carefully put away the scrap into his case and replaced it in his +pocket. + +“There is another thing I’d like to tell you,” he said. “Somebody was +in the wood who wore pointed shoes and smoked cigars. I found the +cigar ashes in a little hollow, and his footprint was on the +flower-beds.” + +“Near the house?” asked Derrick Yale, startled. + +The solid man nodded. + +“My own theory is,” he went on, “that somebody wanted to warn +Beardmore, wrote this letter and brought it to the house after dark. +It must have been received by the old man, because he burnt it. I +found the ashes in the place where the servants dump their cinders.” + +There was a gentle tap at the door. + +“Jack Beardmore,” said Yale under his breath. + +Jack Beardmore showed signs of the distressing period through which he +had passed. He nodded to Parr and came toward Yale with outstretched +hand. + +“No news, I suppose?” he asked, and turning to the other: “You were at +the house yesterday, Mr. Parr. Did you find anything?” + +“Nothing worth speaking about,” said Parr. + +“I’ve just been to see Froyant, he is in town,” said Jack. “It wasn’t +a very successful visit, for he is in a pitiable state of nerves.” + +He did not explain that the unsatisfactory part of his call was that +he had not seen Thalia Drummond, and only one of the men guessed the +reason of his disappointment. + +Derrick Yale told him of the arrest which had been made. + +“I don’t want you to build any hopes on this,” he said, “even if he is +the man who fired the shot, he is certain to be no more than the +agent. We shall probably hear the same story as we heard before, that +he was in low water and that the chief of the Crimson Circle induced +him to commit the act. We are as far from the real solution as ever we +have been.” + +They strolled out of the office together, into the clean autumn +sunlight. + +Jack, who had an engagement with a lawyer who was settling his +father’s estate, accompanied the two men, who were on their way to +catch a train for the town where the suspected murderer was detained. +They were passing through one of the busiest streets when Jack uttered +an exclamation. On the opposite side of the road was a big +pawnbroker’s, and a girl was coming from the side entrance devoted to +the service of those who needed temporary loans. + +“Well, I’m blessed!” It was Parr’s unemotional voice. “I haven’t seen +her for two years.” + +Jack turned on him open-eyed. + +“Haven’t seen her for two years,” he said slowly. “Are you referring +to that lady?” + +Parr nodded. + +“I’m referring to Thalia Drummond,” he said calmly, “who is a crook +and a companion of crooks!” + + + + + Chapter VII. + The Stolen Idol + +Jack heard him and was stunned. + +He stood motionless and speechless, as the girl, as though unconscious +of the scrutiny, hailed a taxi-cab and was driven away. + +“Now what the dickens was she doing there?” said Parr. + +“A crook and a companion of crooks,” repeated Jack mechanically. “Good +God! Where are you going?” he asked quickly, as the inspector took a +step into the roadway. + +“I intend discovering what she has been doing in the pawnbroker’s,” +said the stolid Parr. + +“She may have gone there because she was short of money. It is no +crime to be short of money.” + +Jack realised the feebleness of his defence even as he spoke. + +Thalia Drummond a thief! It was incredible, impossible! And yet he +followed unresistingly the detective as he crossed the road; followed +him down the dark passage to the loaning department, and was present +in the manager’s room when an assistant brought in the article which +the girl had pledged. It was a small golden figure of Buddha. + +“I thought it queer,” said the manager, when Parr had made himself +known. “She only wanted ten pounds and it is worth a hundred if it’s +worth a penny.” + +“What explanation did she give?” asked Derrick Yale, who had been a +silent listener. + +“She said she was short of money and that her father had a number of +these curios, but wanted to pledge them at a price which would allow +him to redeem them.” + +“Did she leave her address? What name did she give?” + +“Thalia Drummond,” said the assistant, “of 29, Park Gate.” + +Derrick Yale uttered an exclamation. + +“Why that’s Froyant’s address, isn’t it?” + +Too well Jack knew it was the address of the miserly Harvey Froyant, +and he remembered with a sinking of heart that Froyant made a hobby of +collecting these eastern antiquities. The inspector gave a receipt for +the idol and slipped it into his pocket. + +“We’ll go along and see Mr. Froyant,” he said, and Jack interposed +desperately: + +“For heaven’s sake, don’t let us get this girl into trouble,” he +pleaded. “It may have been some sudden temptation--I will make things +right, if money can settle the affair.” + +Derrick Yale was eyeing the young man with a grave, understanding +look. + +“You know Miss Drummond?” + +Jack nodded. He was too miserable to speak; he felt an absurd desire +to run away and hide himself. + +“It can’t be done,” said Inspector Parr definitely. He was the +conventional police officer now. “I’m going along to Froyant’s to +discover whether this article was pledged with his approval.” + +“Then you’ll go by yourself,” said Jack wrathfully. + +He could not contemplate being a witness of the girl’s humiliation. It +was monstrous. It was beastly of Parr, he said to Yale when they were +alone. + +“The girl would not commit so mean a theft, the stupid, blundering +fool! I wish to heaven I had never called his attention to her.” + +“It was he who saw her first,” said Yale, and dropped his hand upon +the young man’s shoulder. “Jack, you’re a little unstrung, I think. +Why are you so interested in Miss Drummond? Of course,” he said +suddenly, “you must have seen a lot of her when you were at home. +Froyant’s estate joins yours, doesn’t it?” + +Jack nodded. + +“If he would give as much attention to the running down of the Crimson +Circle as he gives to the hounding of that poor girl,” he said +bitterly, “my poor father would be alive to-day.” + +Derrick Yale did his best to soothe him. He took him back to his +office and tried to bring his thoughts to a more pleasant channel. +They had been there a quarter of an hour when the telephone bell rang. +It was Parr who spoke. + +“Well?” asked Yale. + +“I’ve arrested Thalia Drummond, and I am charging her in the morning,” +was the laconic message. + +Yale put down the receiver gently and turned to the young man. + +“She’s arrested?” Jack guessed before he spoke. + +Yale nodded. + +Jack Beardmore’s face was very white. + +“You see, Jack,” said Yale gently, “you have probably been as much +deceived as Froyant. The girl is a thief.” + +“If she were a thief and murderess,” said Jack doggedly, “I love her.” + + + + + Chapter VIII. + The Charge + +Mr. Parr’s interview with Harvey Froyant was a short one. At the +sight of the detective, that thin man blanched. He knew him by sight +and had met him in connection with the Beardmore tragedy. + +“Well, well,” he asked tremulously. “What is wrong? Have these +infernal people started a new campaign?” + +“Nothing so bad as that, sir,” said Parr. “I came to ask you a few +questions. How long have you had Thalia Drummond in your house?” + +“She has been my secretary for three months,” said Froyant +suspiciously. “Why?” + +“What wages do you pay her?” asked Parr. + +Mr. Froyant mentioned a sum grossly inadequate, and even he was +apologetic for its inefficiency. + +“I give her her food, you know, and she has evenings off,” he said, +feeling that the starvation wage must be justified. + +“Has she been short of money lately?” + +Mr. Froyant stared at him. + +“Why--yes. She asked me if I could advance her five pounds yesterday,” +he said. “She said she had a call upon her purse which she could not +meet. Of course, I didn’t advance the money. I do not approve of +advancing money for work which is not performed,” said Froyant +virtuously. “It tends to pauperise----” + +“You have a large number of antiques, I understand, Mr. Froyant, some +of them very valuable. Have you missed any lately?” + +Froyant jumped to his feet. The very hint that he might have been +robbed was sufficient to set his mind in a panic. Without a word he +rushed from the room. He was gone three minutes and when he came back +his eyes were almost bulging from his head. + +“My Buddha!” he gasped. “It is worth a hundred pounds. It was there +this morning----” + +“Send for Miss Drummond,” said the detective briefly. + +Thalia came, a cool, self-possessed girl, who stood by her employer’s +desk, her hands clasped behind her, scarcely looking at the detective. + +The interview was short, and for Mr. Froyant, painful. Upon the girl +it had no apparent effect whatever. And yet she must have known, from +the steely glare in Froyant’s eyes, that her theft had been detected. +For a little time the man found a difficulty in framing a coherent +sentence. + +“You--you have stolen something of mine,” he blurted out. His voice +was almost a squeak. The accusing hand trembled in the intensity of +his emotion. “You--you are a thief!” + +“I asked you for the money,” said the girl coolly. “If you hadn’t been +such a wicked old skinflint, you’d have let me have it.” + +“You--you----” spluttered Froyant, and then with a gasp--“I charge +her, inspector. I charge her with theft. You shall go to prison for +this. Mark my words, young woman. Wait--wait,” he raised his hand. “I +will see if anything else is missing.” + +“You can save yourself the trouble,” said the girl, as he was leaving +the room. “The Buddha was the only thing I took, and it was an ugly +little beast, anyway.” + +“Give me your keys,” stormed the enraged man. “To think that I’ve +allowed you to open my business letters!” + +“I’ve opened one which will not be pleasant for you, Mr. Froyant,” she +said quietly, and then he saw what she was holding in her hand. + +She passed the envelope across to him, and with staring eyes he saw +the Crimson Circle, but the words written within the hoop were blurred +and indistinct. He dropped the card and collapsed into a chair. + + + + + Chapter IX. + Thalia in the Police Court + +The magistrate was a kind-hearted man and seemed uncomfortable. He +looked from the unemotional Mr. Parr who stood on the witness-stand, +to the girl in the steel pen, and she was almost as cool and as +self-controlled as the police witness. Her face was one which would +have attracted attention in any circumstances, but in the drab setting +of the police court, her beauty was emphasised and enhanced. + +The magistrate glanced down at the charge-sheet before him. Her age +was described as twenty-one, her occupation as secretary. + +The man of law, who had had many shocks in his lifetime, and had +steeled himself to the most unusual and improbable happenings, could +only shake his head in despair. + +“Is anything known against this woman?” he asked, and felt it was +absurd even to refer to the slim, girlish prisoner as a “woman.” + +“She has been under observation for some time, your worship,” was the +reply, “but she has not been in the hands of the police before.” + +The magistrate looked over his glasses at the girl. + +“I cannot understand how you got yourself into this terrible +position,” he said. “A girl who has evidently had the education of a +lady, you have been charged with a theft of a few pounds, for although +the article you stole was worth a large sum, that was all that your +dishonesty realised. Your act was probably due to some great +temptation. I suppose the need for the money was very urgent; yet that +does not excuse your act. I shall bind you over to come up for +judgment when called upon, treating you as a first offender, and I do +most earnestly appeal to you to live honestly and avoid a repetition +of this unpleasant experience.” + +The girl bowed slightly and left the box for the police office, and +the next case was called. + +Harvey Froyant rose at the same time and made his way out of the +court. He was a rich man to whom money represented the goal and object +of life. He was the type of man who counted the contents of his pocket +every night before he went to bed, and he would have had his own +mother arrested in similar circumstances. Thalia Drummond’s offence +was made more heinous in his eyes because her last act of service had +been to hand to him the warning of the Crimson Circle, from the shock +of which he had not yet recovered. + +He was a large, thin man with a permanent stoop. His attitude towards +the world was one of acute suspicion; for the moment it was one of +resentment, for he held the strongest views on the sacredness of +property. + +To Parr, who followed him out of the court, he expressed his +disappointment that the girl had not been sent to prison. + +“A woman like that is a danger to society,” he complained in his +high-pitched, peevish voice. “How do I know that she isn’t in league +with these blackguards who are threatening me? Forty thousand they ask +for! Forty thousand!” He wailed the last words. “It is your duty to +see that I come to no harm! Understand that--it is your duty!” + +“I heard you!” said Inspector Parr wearily. “And as to the girl, I +don’t suppose she ever heard of the Crimson Circle. She’s very young.” + +“Young!” snarled the lean man. “That’s the time to punish them, isn’t +it? Catch them young and punish them young, and you may turn them into +respectable citizens!” + +“I dare say you’re right,” agreed the stout Mr. Parr with a sigh, and +then inconsequently, “Children are a great responsibility.” + +Froyant muttered something under his breath, and without so much as a +nod of farewell, walked rapidly through the court, into the motor-car +which was waiting for him at the entrance to the court-house. + +The inspector watched him depart with a slow smile, and, looking +round, caught the eye of a young man who was waiting by the clerk’s +door. + +“Good morning, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “Are you waiting to see the +young lady?” + +“Yes. How long will they keep her?” asked Jack nervously. + +Mr. Parr gazed at him with expressionless eyes, and sniffed. + +“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Beardmore,” he said quietly, “you +are probably taking a greater interest in Miss Drummond than is good +for you.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Jack quickly. “The whole thing was a plot. +That beast Froyant----” + +The inspector shook his head. + +“Miss Drummond admitted that she took the statuette,” he said, “and, +besides, we saw her coming out of Isaacs’. There isn’t any doubt about +it.” + +“She only made the admission for some reason best known to herself,” +said Jack violently. “Do you think a girl like that would steal? Why +should she? I would have given her anything she wanted”--he checked +himself suddenly. “There is something behind this,” he went on more +quietly, “something which I do not understand, and probably you do not +understand either, inspector.” + +The door opened at that moment and the girl came out. She stopped at +the sight of Jack and a faint flush crept into her pale face. + +“Were you in court?” she asked quickly. + +He nodded, and she shook her head. + +“You shouldn’t have come,” she said almost vehemently. “How did you +know? Who told you?” She seemed oblivious to the presence of the +inspector, but for the first time since her arrest she showed some +sign of her pent emotion. The colour came and went, and her voice +shook a little as she continued: “I am sorry you knew anything about +it, Mr. Beardmore, and am desperately sorry you came,” she said. + +“But it isn’t true,” he interrupted. “You can tell me that, Thalia? It +was a plot, wasn’t it? A plot intended to ruin you?” His voice was +almost pleading, but she shook her head. + +“There was no plot,” she said quietly. “I stole from Mr. Froyant.” + +“But why, why?” he asked despairingly. “Why did you----” + +“I am afraid I can’t tell you why,” she said with the ghost of a smile +on her lips, “except that I needed the money, and that is good and +sufficient reason, isn’t it?” + +“I’ll never believe it.” Jack’s face was set and his grey eyes +regarded her steadily. “You are not the kind who would indulge in +petty pilfering.” + +She looked at him for a long time, and then turned her eyes to the +inspector. + +“You may be able to undeceive Mr. Beardmore,” she said. “I am afraid I +cannot.” + +“Where are you going?” he asked as, with a little nod, she was passing +on. + +“I am going home,” she replied. “Please don’t come with me, Mr. +Beardmore.” + +“But you have no home.” + +“I have a lodging,” she said with a hint of impatience. + +“Then I am going with you,” he said doggedly. + +She did not make any remonstrance, and they passed from the court +together into the busy street. No word was spoken until they reached +the entrance of a tube station. + +“Now I must go home,” she said more gently than before. + +“But what are you going to do?” he demanded. “How are you going to get +your living with this terrible charge against you?” + +“Is it so terrible?” she asked coolly. She was walking into the +station entrance when he took her arm and swung her round with almost +savage violence. + +“Now listen to me, Thalia,” he said between his teeth. “I love you and +I want to marry you. I haven’t told you that before, but you’ve +guessed it. I am not going to allow you to go out of my life. Do you +understand that? I do not believe that you are a thief and----” + +Very gently she disengaged his grip. + +“Mr. Beardmore,” she said in a low voice, “you are just being quixotic +and foolish! You have told me what you will not allow, and I tell you +that I am not going to allow you to ruin your life through your +infatuation for a convicted thief. You know nothing of me except that +I am a seemingly nice girl whom you met by accident in the country, +and it is my duty to be your mother and your maiden aunt.” There was a +glint of amusement in her eye as she took his offered hand. “Some day +perhaps we shall meet again, and by that time the glamour of romance +will have worn off. Good-bye.” + +She had disappeared into the booking hall before he could find his +voice. + + + + + Chapter X. + The Summons of The Crimson Circle + +Thalia Drummond went back to the lodging she had occupied before she +had entered Mr. Harvey Froyant’s service as resident secretary, and +apparently the story of her ill-deeds had preceded her, for the stout +landlady gave her a chilly welcome, and had she not continued to pay +the rent of her one room during the time she was working for Froyant, +it was probable that she would not have been admitted. + +It was a small room, neatly if plainly furnished, and oblivious to the +landlady’s glum face and cold reception, she went to her apartment and +locked the door behind her. She had spent a very unpleasant week, for +she had been remanded in custody, and her very clothes seemed to +exhale the musty odour of Holloway Gaol. Holloway, however, had an +advantage which No. 14, Lexington Street, did not possess. It had an +admirable system of bathrooms, for which the girl was truly grateful +as she began to change. + +She had plenty to occupy her mind. Harvey Froyant… Jack Beardmore… she +frowned as though at a distasteful thought, and tried to dismiss him +from her mind. It was a relief to go back to Froyant. She almost hated +him. She certainly despised him. The time she had spent in his house +had been the most wretched period in her life. She had taken her meals +with the servants and had been conscious that every scrap of food she +ate had been measured and weighed and duly apportioned by a man whose +cheque for seven figures would have been honoured. + +“At least, he didn’t make love to you, my dear,” she said to herself, +and smiled. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Harvey Froyant making love to +anybody. She recalled the days she had followed him about his big +house with a notebook in her hand, whilst he searched for evidence of +his servants’ neglect, drawing his fingers along the polished shelves +in the library in a vain search for dust, turning up carpet corners, +examining silver, or else counting, as he did regularly every week, +the contents of his still-room. + +He measured the wine at table and counted the empty bottles, even the +corks. It was his boast that in his big garden he could tell the +absence of a flower. These he sent to market regularly, with the +vegetables he grew and the peaches which ripened on the wall, and woe +betide the unlucky gardener who had poached so much as a ripe apple +from the orchard, for Harvey had an uncanny instinct which led him to +the rifled tree. + +She smiled a little wryly at the recollection, and, having completed +her change of costume, she went out, locking the door behind her. Her +landlady watched her pass down the street, and nodded ominously. + +“Your lodger’s come back,” said a neighbour. + +“Yes, she’s come back,” said the woman grimly. “A nice lady she is--I +don’t think! It is the first time I’ve ever had a crook in my house, +and it’ll be the last. I am giving her notice to-night.” + +Unconscious of the criticism, Thalia boarded a bus which took her into +the city. She got down in Fleet Street, went into the large office of +a popular newspaper. At the desk she took an advertisement form, +looked at the white sheet for a moment thoughtfully, then wrote: + + + “Secretary.--Young lady from the Colonies requires post as + Secretary. Resident-Secretary preferred. Small wages required. + Shorthand and Typewriting.” + + +She left a space for the box number, handed the advertisement across +the counter, and paid the fee. + +She was back again in Lexington Street in time for tea, a meal which +was brought up to her on a battered tray by her landlady. + +“Look here, Miss Drummond,” said that worthy person, “I’ve got a few +words to say to you.” + +“Say them,” said the girl carelessly. + +“I shall want your room after next week.” + +Thalia turned slowly. + +“Does that mean I’ve got to get out?” + +“That’s what it means. I can’t have people like you staying in a +respectable house. I’m surprised at you, a young lady as I always +thought you were.” + +“Continue to think so,” said Thalia coolly. “I’m both young and +ladylike.” + +But the stout landlady was not to be checked in her well-rehearsed +indictment. + +“A nice lady you are,” she said, “giving my house a bad name. You’ve +been in prison for a week. Perhaps you don’t think I know, but I read +the newspapers.” + +“I’m sure you do,” said the girl quietly. “That will do, Mrs. Boled. I +leave your house next week.” + +“And I should like to say----” began the woman. + +“Say it on the mat,” said Thalia, and closed the door in the choleric +lady’s face. + +As it was now growing dark, she lit a kerosene lamp and occupied the +evening by manicuring her nails, an operation which was interrupted by +the arrival of the nine o’clock post. She heard the rat-tat at the +door and the heavy feet of her landlady on the stairs. + +“A letter for you,” called the woman. + +Thalia unlocked the door and took the envelope from the landlady’s +hand. + +“You had better tell your friends that you’re going to get a new +address,” said the woman, loath to leave her quarrel half-finished. + +“I haven’t told my friends yet that I live in such a horrible place,” +said Thalia sweetly, and locked the door before the woman could think +of a suitable reply. + +She smiled as she carried the envelope to the light. It was addressed +in printed characters. She turned it over, looking at the postmark +before she opened it, and extracted a thick white card. At the first +glance of the message her face changed its expression. + +The card was a square one, and in the centre was a large crimson +circle. Within the circle was written in the same printed characters: + + + “_We have need of you. Enter the car which you will find waiting at + the corner of Steyne Square at ten o’clock to-morrow night._” + + +She put the card down on the table and stared at it. + +The Crimson Circle had need of her! + +She had expected the summons, but it had come earlier than she had +anticipated. + + + + + Chapter XI. + The Confession + +At three minutes to ten the following night, a closed car drove +slowly into Steyne Square and came to a halt at the corner of Clarges +Street. A few minutes later Thalia Drummond walked into the square +from the other end. She wore a long black cloak, and the little hat +upon her head was held in its position by a thick veil knotted under +her chin. + +Without a second’s hesitation she opened the door of the car and +stepped in. It was in complete darkness, but she could see the figure +of the driver indistinctly. He did not turn his head, nor did he +attempt to start the car, although she felt the vibration of the +engines beneath her feet. + +“You were charged at the Marylebone Police Court yesterday morning +with theft,” said the driver without preamble. “Yesterday afternoon +you inserted an advertisement, describing yourself as a newly-arrived +colonial, your intention being to find another situation, where you +could continue your career of petty pilfering.” + +“This is very interesting,” said Thalia without a tremor of voice, +“but you did not bring me here to give me my past history. When I had +your letter I guessed that you thought I would be a very useful +assistant. But there is one question I want to ask you.” + +“If I wish to reply I shall,” was the uncompromising answer. + +“I realise that,” said Thalia, with a faint smile in the darkness. +“Suppose I had communicated with the police and I had come here +attended by Mr. Parr and the clever Mr. Derrick Yale?” + +“You would have been lying on the pavement dead by now,” was the calm +announcement. “Miss Drummond, I am going to put easy money in your way +and find you a very excellent job. I do not even mind if you indulge +in your eccentricity in your spare time, but your principal task will +be to serve me. You understand?” + +She nodded, and then realising he could not see her, she said: + +“Yes.” + +“You will be well paid for everything you do; I shall always be on +hand to help you--or to punish you if you attempt to betray me,” he +added. “Do you understand?” + +“Perfectly,” she replied. + +“Your job will be a very simple one,” went on the unknown driver. “You +will present yourself at Brabazon’s Bank to-morrow. Brabazon is in +need of a secretary.” + +“But will he employ me?” she interrupted. “Must I go in another name?” + +“Go in your own name,” said the man impatiently. “Don’t interrupt. I +will pay you two hundred pounds for your services. Here is the money.” +He thrust two notes over his shoulder and she took them. + +Her hand accidentally touched his shoulder, and she felt something +hard beneath his fleecy coat. + +“A bullet-proof waistcoat,” she noted mentally, and then aloud: “What +am I to say to Mr. Brabazon about my earlier experience?” + +“It will be unnecessary to say anything, or do anything. You will +receive your instructions from time to time. That is all,” he added +shortly. + +A few minutes later Thalia Drummond sat in the corner of the taxi-cab +which was taking her back to Lexington Street. Behind her, at +intervals, came another taxi-cab which slowed when hers did, but never +overtook her, not even when she descended at the corner of the street +where her lodgings were situated. And when she turned the key of her +street door, Inspector Parr was only a dozen paces from her. If she +knew that she was being shadowed, she made no sign. + +Parr only waited for a few minutes, watching the house from the +opposite side of the roadway, and then, as her light appeared in the +upper window, he turned and walked thoughtfully back to the cab which +had brought him so far eastward. + +He had opened the door of the cab and was stepping in, when somebody +passed him on the side-walk; somebody who was walking briskly with his +collar turned up, but Inspector Parr knew him. + +“Flush,” he called sharply, and the man turned round on his heel. + +He was a little dark, thin-faced, lithe man, at the sight of the +Inspector his jaw dropped. + +“Why--why, Mr. Parr,” he said, with ill-affected geniality, “whoever +thought of seeing you in this part of the world?” + +“I want a little talk with you, Flush. Will you walk along with me?” + +It was an ominous invitation, which Mr. “Flush” had heard before. + +“You haven’t got anything against me, Mr. Parr?” he said loudly. + +“Nothing,” admitted Parr. “Besides, you’re going straight now. I seem +to remember you telling me that the day you came out of prison.” + +“That’s right,” said “Flush” Barnet, heaving a sigh of relief. “Going +straight, working for my living, and engaged to be married.” + +“You don’t tell me?” said the stout Mr. Parr with well-simulated +astonishment. “And is it Bella or Milly?” + +“It is Milly,” said “Flush,” inwardly cursing the excellent memory of +the police inspector. “She’s going straight, too. She’s got a job at +one of the shops.” + +“At Brabazon’s Bank, to be exact,” said the inspector, and then turned +as though some thought had arrested him. “I wonder,” he muttered, “I +wonder if that is it?” + +“She’s a perfect young lady, is Milly,” Mr. “Flush” hastened to +explain. “Honest as the day, wouldn’t swipe a clock, not if her life +depended on it. I don’t want you to think she is bad, Mr. Parr, +because she’s not. We’re both living what I might term an honest +life.” + +Parr’s placid face wrinkled in a smile. + +“That’s grand news you’re telling me, ‘Flush.’ Where is Milly to be +found in these days?” + +“She’s living in diggings on the other side of the river,” said +“Flush” reluctantly. “You’re not going to rake up old scandals, are +you, Mr. Parr?” + +“Heaven forbid,” said Inspector Parr piously. “No, I’d like to have a +talk with her. Perhaps----” he hesitated, “anyway, it can wait. It was +rather providential meeting you, ‘Flush.’” + +But “Flush” did not share that view, even though he expressed a faint +acquiescence. + +“So that’s it,” said Inspector Parr to himself, but he did not express +the nature of his suspicions, even when he met Derrick Yale at his +club half-an-hour later. And it was a further curious fact, that +though they touched every aspect of the Crimson Circle mystery in the +long conversation which followed, never once did Mr. Parr mention +Thalia Drummond’s interview, which, if he had not seen, he had at +least guessed. + +The two men left early the next morning for the little country town +where one Ambrose Sibly, described as an able-seaman, was held on a +charge of murder. At his own earnest request, Jack Beardmore was +allowed to accompany them, though he was not present at the interview +between the two detectives and the sullen man who had slain his +father. + +A brawny, unshaven fellow, half Scottish, half Swede, Sibly proved to +be. He could neither read nor write, and had been in the hands of the +police before. This much Parr had discovered from a reference of his +fingerprints. + +At first he was not inclined to commit himself, and it was rather +Derrick Yale’s skilful cross-examination, than Inspector Parr’s +efforts, which produced the confession. + +“Yes, I did it all right,” he said at last. + +They were seated in the cell with an official shorthand-writer taking +a note of his statement. + +“You’ve got me proper, but you wouldn’t have got me if I hadn’t been +drunk. And whilst I’m confessing, I might as well own up that I killed +Harry Hobbs. He was a shipmate of mine on the _Oritianga_ in +1912--they can only hang me once. Killed him and chucked his body +overboard, I did, over the question of a woman that we met at Newport +News, which is in America. I’ll tell you how this happened, gentlemen. +I lost my ship about a month ago, and was stranded at the Sailors’ +Home at Wapping. I got chucked out of there for being drunk, and on +top of that I was locked up and got seven days’ imprisonment. If the +old fool had only given me a month I shouldn’t have been here. One +night after I came out of prison I was walking through the East End, +down on my luck and starving for a drink, and feeling properly +miserable. To make it worse, I had the toothache----” + +Parr met Derrick Yale’s eyes, and Derrick smiled faintly. + +“I was loafing along the edge of the pavement looking for cigarette +ends, and thinking of nothing except where I could get a bit of food +and a night’s lodging. It was beginning to rain, too, and it looked as +though I was going to have another night on the streets, when I heard +a voice say, almost in my ear, ‘Jump in.’ I looked round. A motor-car +was standing by the side of the roadway. I couldn’t believe my ears. +Presently the man in the car said ‘Jump in. It’s you I mean!’ and he +mentioned my name. We drove along for a while without his saying +anything, and I noticed that he kept clear of all the streets where +the big lights were. + +“After a bit he stopped the car, and began to tell me who I was. I can +assure you I was surprised. He knew the whole of my history. He even +knew about Harry Hobbs--I was tried for that killing and +acquitted--and then he asked me if I’d like to earn a hundred pounds. +I told him I would, and he said there was an old gentleman in the +country who had done him a lot of harm, and he wanted him ‘outed.’ I +didn’t want to take the job on for some time, but he gave me such a +lot of talk about how he could get me hung for Hobbs’s murder, and how +it was safe, and he’d give me a bicycle to get away on, and at last I +agreed. + +“He picked me up by arrangement a week later in Steyne Square. Then he +gave me all the final particulars. I got down to Beardmore’s place +soon after it was dark, and hid in the wood. He told me Mr. Beardmore +generally walked through the wood every morning, and that I was to +make myself comfortable for the night. I hadn’t been in the wood an +hour when I had a fright. I heard somebody moving. I think it must +have been a game-keeper. He was a big fellow, and I only just got a +glimpse of him. + +“And I think that’s about all, gentlemen, except that the next morning +the old fellow came in the wood and I shot him. I don’t remember much +about it, for I was drunk at the time, having taken a bottle of whisky +into the wood with me. But I was sober enough to get on to the +bicycle, and I rode off. And I should have got away altogether, if it +hadn’t been for the booze.” + +“And that is all?” asked Parr, when the confession had been read over +and the man had affixed a rough cross. + +“That’s all, guv’nor,” said the sailor. + +“And you don’t know who it was who employed you?” + +“Not the faintest idea,” said the other cheerfully. “There’s one thing +about him, though, I could tell you,” he said after a pause. “He kept +using a word that I’ve never heard before. I’m not highly educated, +but I’ve noticed that some men have favourite words. We had an old +skipper who always used the word ‘morbid’.” + +“What was the word?” asked Parr. + +The man scratched his head. + +“I’ll remember it and let you know,” he said, and they left him to his +meditations, which were few, and probably not unpleasant. + +Four hours after, the jailor took Ambrose Sibly some food. He was +lying on his bed, and the jailor shook him by the shoulder. + +“Wake up,” he said, but Ambrose Sibly never woke again. + +He was stone dead. + +And in the tin dipper, half-filled with water, which stood by his bed, +and with which he had slaked his thirst, they found sufficient +hydrocyanic acid to kill fifty men. + +But it was not the poison which interested Inspector Parr so much as +the little circle of crimson paper which was found floating on the top +of the water. + + + + + Chapter XII. + The Pointed Boots + +Mr. Felix Marl sat behind the locked door of his bedroom, and he was +engaged in a task which had the elements of unpleasant familiarity. + +Twenty-five years before, when he was an inmate of the big French +prison at Toulouse, he had worked in a bootmaker’s shop, and the +handling of boots was an everyday experience. It is true his business +had been to repair, and not to destroy. To-day, with a razor-sharp +knife, he was cutting to shreds a pair of pointed patent leather shoes +which he had only worn three times. Strip by strip he cut the leather, +which he then placed on the fire. + +Some men live intensely and suffer intensely. Mr. Felix Marl was one +of those who could crowd into a day the terrors of an æon. In some +manner a newspaper had got hold of the story of the footprint in +Beardmore’s ground, and a new fear had been added to the many which +confused and paralysed this big man. He was sitting in his shirt +sleeves, the perspiration rolling down his face, for the fire was a +big one and the room was super-heated. + +Presently the last shred was thrown into the fire and he sat watching +it grill and flame before he put away the knife, washed his hands and +opened the windows to let out the acrid odour of burning leather. + +It would have been better, he thought, if he had carried out his first +resolution, and he cursed himself for the cowardice which had induced +him to substitute his revolver for a fountain pen. But he was safe. +Nobody had seen him leave the grounds. + +With such men as he, blind panic and unreasoning confidence succeed +one another, almost as a natural reaction. By the time he had +descended his stairs to his little library he had almost forgotten +that he was in any danger. + +In the fading light of day he had written a conciliatory, even a +grovelling letter, and had, as he believed, delivered it safely. Would +it be found? He had another moment of panic. + +“Pshaw!” said Mr. Marl, and dismissed that dangerous possibility. + +His servant brought him a tea-tray and arranged it on a small table by +the side of his desk, where the big man sat. + +“Will you see that gentleman now, sir?” + +“Eh?” said Mr. Marl, turning round. “Which gentleman?” + +“I told you there was a man who wanted to see you.” + +Marl remembered that his boot-destroying operation had been +interrupted by a knock. + +“Who is he?” he asked. + +“I put his card on the table, sir.” + +“Didn’t you tell him that I was engaged?” + +“Yes, but he said he’d wait until you came down.” + +The man handed him the card, and Mr. Marl reading it, jumped and +turned a sickly yellow. + +“Inspector Parr,” he said unsteadily. “What does he want with me?” + +His shaking hand fingered his mouth. + +“Show him in,” he said with an effort. + +He had not met Inspector Parr either professionally or socially, and +his first glance at the little man reassured him. There was nothing +particularly menacing in the appearance of the red-faced detective. + +“Sit down, inspector. I’m sorry I was busy when you came,” said Mr. +Marl. When he was agitated his voice was almost bird-like in its +thinness. + +Parr sat down on the edge of the nearest chair, balancing his Derby +hat on his knee. + +“I thought I’d wait until you came down, Mr. Marl. I wanted to see you +about this Beardmore murder.” + +Mr. Marl said nothing. With an effort he kept his trembling lips from +quivering, and assumed, as he believed, an air of polite interest. + +“You knew Mr. Beardmore very well?” + +“Not very well,” said Marl. “I certainly have had business dealings +with him.” + +“Have you met him before?” + +Marl hesitated. He was the kind of man to whom a lie came most +readily, and his natural habit of mind was to state the exact opposite +of the truth. + +“No,” he admitted. “I had seen him years ago, but that was before he +had grown a beard.” + +“Where was Mr. Beardmore when you were coming into the house?” asked +Parr. + +“He was standing on the terrace,” replied Marl with unnecessary +loudness. + +“And you saw him?” + +Marl nodded. + +“They tell me, Mr. Marl,” Parr went on, looking down at his hat, “that +for some reason or other you were startled--Mr. Jack Beardmore says +that he thought you were momentarily terrified. What was the cause of +that?” + +Mr. Marl shrugged his shoulders and forced a smile. + +“I think I explained it was a little heart attack. I am subject to +them,” he said. + +Parr had turned his hat so that he was looking into the interior, and +he did not raise his eyes when he asked: + +“It was not the sight of Mr. Beardmore?” + +“Of course not,” said the other vigorously. “Why should I be scared of +Mr. Beardmore? I’ve had a lot of correspondence with him, and know him +almost as well----” + +“But you hadn’t met him for years?” + +“I hadn’t seen him for years,” corrected Marl irritably. + +“And the cause of your agitation was just a heart attack, Mr. Marl?” +asked the inspector. + +For the first time his eyes rose and fixed themselves upon the +other’s. + +“Absolutely.” Marl’s voice did not lack heartiness. “I had forgotten +all about my little seizure until you reminded me.” + +“There is another point I wanted cleared up,” said the detective. His +attention had gone back to his fascinating hat, which he was turning +over and over mechanically until it had the appearance of a revolving +butter-churn. “When you came to Mr. Beardmore’s house you were wearing +pointed patent shoes.” + +Marl frowned. + +“Was I? I’ve forgotten.” + +“Did you take any walk into the grounds, except the walk you had from +the railway station?” + +“No.” + +“You didn’t walk around the house to admire the--er--architecture?” + +“No, I did not. I was only in the house a few minutes, and then I +drove away.” + +Mr. Parr raised his eyes to the ceiling. + +“Would it be asking you too much,” he demanded apologetically, “if I +requested you to show me the patent shoes you wore that day?” + +“Certainly,” said Marl, rising with alacrity. + +He was out of the room a few minutes, and came back with a pair of +long pointed patent boots. + +The detective took them in his hand and looked earnestly at the sole. + +“Yes,” he said. “Of course, these are not the boots you were wearing, +because----” he rubbed the soles gently with his hand, “there is dust +on them, and the ground has been wet for the last week.” + +Marl’s heart nearly stopped beating. + +“Those are the boots I wore,” he said defiantly. “What you call ‘dust’ +is really dried mud.” + +Parr looked at his dusty fingers and shook his head. + +“I think there must be some mistake, Mr. Marl,” he said gently. “This +is chalk dust.” He put the boots down and rose. “However, it isn’t +very important,” he said. He stood so long, looking down at the +carpet, that Mr. Marl, in spite of his fear, became impatient. + +“Is there anything more I can do for you, officer?” he asked. + +“Yes,” said Parr. “I want you to give me the name and address of your +tailor. Perhaps you would write it down for me.” + +“My tailor?” Mr. Marl glared at the visitor. “What the dickens do you +want of my tailor?” And then, with a laugh, “Well, you are a curious +man, inspector; but I’ll do it with pleasure.” + +He went to his secretaire, pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote down a +name and address and, blotting it, handed it to the detective. + +“Thank you, sir.” + +Parr did not even look at the address, but put the paper into his +pocket. + +“I’m sorry to bother you, but you will realise that everybody who was +present at the house within twenty-four hours of Mr. Beardmore’s death +must necessarily be interrogated. The Crimson Circle----” + +“The Crimson Circle!” gasped Mr. Marl, and the detective looked at him +straightly. + +“Didn’t you know that the Crimson Circle were responsible for this +murder?” + +To do him justice, Mr. Felix Marl knew nothing of the kind. He had +seen a brief report that James Beardmore had been found shot but the +association of the murder with the Crimson Circle had not been +disclosed except by the _Monitor_, a newspaper which Mr. Marl never +read. + +He dropped into a chair, quaking. + +“The Crimson Circle,” he muttered. “Good God--I never thought----” he +checked himself. + +“What didn’t you think?” asked Parr gently. + +“The Crimson Circle,” murmured the big man again. “I thought it was +just a----” he did not complete his sentence. + +For an hour after the detective’s departure Felix Marl sat huddled up +in his chair, his head in his hands. + +The Crimson Circle! + +It was the first time he had ever been brought into even the remotest +touch with that blackmailing organisation, and now its obtrusion upon +the order of his thoughts was so violent that it disturbed every +theory he had formed. + +“I don’t like it,” he muttered as he got up painfully and turned on +the light in the darkened room. “I think this is where I get away.” + +He spent the evening examining his bank-book, and the examination was +very comforting. He could squeeze out a little more, he thought, and +then---- + + + + + Chapter XIII. + Mr. Marl Squeezes a Little More + +Another agent of the Crimson Circle found her lines cast in pleasant +places. She had been accepted by Mr. Brabazon without question, and +evidently the man in the car possessed extraordinary influences. + +What was even more extraordinary was that day followed day without a +word from her mysterious employer. She had expected that he would +almost immediately avail himself of her services, but she had been at +Brabazon’s (late Seller’s) Bank nearly a month before she received any +communication. It came one morning. She found the letter on her desk, +addressed in bold pen-print. + +There was no sign of the Circle on the letter, which began without +preamble: + + + “_Make the acquaintance of Marl. Discover why he has a hold over + Brabazon. Send me the figures of his account and notify me immediately + his account is closed. Notify me also if Parr and Derrick Yale come to + the bank. Wire Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, City._” + + +She carried out her instructions faithfully, though it was not for a +few days that she had an opportunity of seeing Mr. Marl. + +Only once did Derrick Yale come into the bank. She had seen him +before, when he was a guest of the Beardmores, and even if she had +not, she would have recognised him from the portrait of the famous +detective which had appeared in the newspapers. + +What his business was she did not learn, but, looking out of the +corner of her eye from the little office she occupied alone, by virtue +of her position as Brabazon’s private secretary, she saw him talking +with one of the tellers at the counter, and duly notified the Crimson +Circle. + +Inspector Parr, however, did not come, nor did she see Jack Beardmore. +She did not want to think too much of Jack. He was not a pleasant +subject. + + * * * * + +In moments of perturbation John Brabazon, the austere and stately +president of Seller’s Bank, had a characteristic little trick. His +white hands would stray to the hair, curly and thick at the back of +his head. One curl he would twist about his forefinger for a moment, +and then he would slowly bring the tips of his fingers across his bald +dome until they rested on his forehead. In such moments, with his head +bowed and his fingers resting on his brow, he had the appearance of +being engaged in prayer. + +The gentleman who sat with him in his neat office had no +characteristics at all. He was a big man, who breathed noisily, and he +was puffy with lazy, indulgent living, but he did not fidget and his +hands were folded over his large waistcoat. + +“My dear Marl,” the banker’s voice was soft and almost caressing, “you +try my patience at times. I will say nothing about the strain you put +upon my resources.” + +The big man chuckled. + +“I give you security, Brab--excellent security, old man. You can’t +deny that!” + +Mr. Brabazon’s white fingers played a tune on the edge of his desk. + +“You bring me impossible schemes, and hitherto I have been foolish +enough to finance them,” he said. “There must come an end to such +folly. You have no need for help. Your balance at this bank alone is +nearly a hundred thousand.” + +Marl looked round at the door and bent forward. + +“I’ll tell you a story,” he mumbled, “a story about a penniless young +clerk that married the widow of Seller, of Seller’s Bank. She was old +enough to be his mother, and died suddenly--in Switzerland. She fell +over a precipice. Don’t I know it? Wasn’t I takin’ photographs of the +bee-utiful mountain scenery? Did I ever show you the picture of that +accident, Brab? You are in it! Yes, you’re in it, though you told the +examining magistrate you were miles and miles away!” + +Mr. Brabazon’s eyes were on the desk. Not a muscle of his face moved. + +“Besides,” said Mr. Marl in a more normal tone, “you can afford it. +You’re making another matrimonial alliance--that’s the expression, +ain’t it?” + +The banker raised his eyes and frowned at his visitor. + +“What do you mean?” he demanded. + +Mr. Marl was evidently amused. He slapped his knee and choked with +laughter. + +“What about the person you met in Steyne Square the other night--the +one in the closed motor-car, eh? Don’t deny it! I saw you! A nice +little car, it was.” + +Now, for the first time, Brabazon displayed signs of emotion. His face +was grey and drawn and his eyes seemed to have receded further into +their sockets. + +“I will arrange your loan,” he said. + +Mr. Marl’s expression of satisfaction was interrupted by a knock at +the door. At Brabazon’s “Come in,” the door opened to admit one whose +appearance put all other matters out of the visitor’s head. + +The girl brought a paper which she placed before her +employer--evidently a pencilled telephone message. + +“White--gold--red,” Mr. Marl’s senses registered the impression he +received. White, creamy white and delicate skin, red as poppies the +scarlet lips, yellow as ripe corn the hair. He saw her in profile, was +revolted a little at the firmness of her chin--Mr. Marl liked women +who were yielding and soft and malleable in his hands--but the beauty +of mouth and nose and brow--they made him blink. + +He breathed a little more quickly, a little more loudly, and when she +had gone after a colloquy, in a low tone, he sighed. + +“What a queen!” he said. “I’ve seen her somewhere before. What is her +name?” + +“Drummond--Thalia Drummond,” said Mr. Brabazon, eyeing the gross man +coldly. + +“Thalia Drummond!” repeated Felix slowly. “Isn’t she the girl who used +to be with Froyant? Bit sweet on her yourself, eh, Brabazon?” + +The man at the writing-table looked at the other steadily. + +“I do not make it a practice to be ‘sweet on’ my employees, Mr. Marl,” +he said. “Miss Drummond is a very efficient worker. That is all that I +require of my staff.” + +Marl rose heavily, chuckling. + +“I’ll see you to-morrow morning about that other business,” he said. + +He laughed wheezily, but Mr. Brabazon did not smile. + +“At half-past ten to-morrow,” he said, going to the door with the +visitor. “Or can you make it eleven?” + +“Eleven,” agreed the man. + +“Good morning,” said the banker, but did not offer his hand. + +Hardly had the door closed on the visitor before Mr. Brabazon locked +it and returned to his desk. He took from his pocket-book a plain +white card, and dipping his pen in the red ink, drew a small circle. +Beneath he wrote the words: + + + “_Felix Marl saw our interview in Steyne Square. He lives at 79, + Marisburg Place._” + + +He put the card into an envelope and addressed it: + + + “_Mr. Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, City._” + + + + + Chapter XIV. + Thalia is Asked Out + +Mr. Marl had to pass through the bank premises, and he glanced along +the two rows of desks without, however, catching a glimpse of the girl +whose face he sought. Near the end of the counter was a small +compartment, the occupant of which was shielded from observation by +opaque glass windows. The door was ajar, and he caught just a flash of +the figure and walked toward the door. A girl at a typewriter watched +him curiously. + +Thalia Drummond looked up from her desk to see the big smiling face of +a man looking down at her. + +“Busy, Miss Drummond?” + +“Very,” she replied, but did not seem to resent his intrusion. + +“Don’t get much fun here, do you?” he asked. + +“Not a lot.” Her dark eyes were surveying him appraisingly. + +“What about a bit of dinner one of these nights and a show to follow?” +he asked. + +Her eyes took him in from his dyed hair to his painfully varnished +boots. + +“You’re a wicked old man,” she said calmly, “but dinner is my +favourite meal.” + +His grin broadened and the fires of conquest flickered in his faded +eyes. + +“What about ‘The Moulin Gris’?” He suggested the restaurant, without +doubting her acceptance, but her lips curled scornfully. + +“Why not at Hooligans Fish Parlour?” she asked. “No, it’s the +Ritz-Carlton or nothing for me.” + +Mr. Marl was staggered, but pleased. + +“You’re a princess,” he beamed, “and you shall have a royal feed! What +about to-night?” + +She nodded. + +“Meet me at my house in Marisburg Place, Bayswater Road. 7.30. You’ll +find my name on the door.” + +He paused, expecting her to demur, but to his surprise, she nodded +again. + +“Good-bye, darling,” said the bold Mr. Marl and kissed the tips of his +fat fingers. + +“Shut the door,” said the girl and went on with her work. + +She was destined again to be interrupted. This time the visitor was a +good-looking girl, whose forearms were gauntletted in shiny leather. +It was the typist who had followed Mr. Marl’s movements with such +curiosity. + +Thalia leant back in her chair as the newcomer carefully closed the +door behind her and sat down. + +“Well, Macroy, what’s biting you?” she asked inelegantly. + +The words did not seem to harmonise with the delicate refinement of +face, and not for the first time did Milly Macroy look at the girl +wonderingly. + +“Who’s the old nut?” she asked. + +“An admirer,” replied Thalia calmly. + +“You do attract ’em, kid,” commented Milly Macroy, with some envy, and +there was a little pause. + +“Well?” asked Thalia. “You haven’t come here to discuss my amours, +have you?” + +Milly smiled furtively. + +“If amours is French for boys, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve come to +have a straight talk with you, Drummond.” + +“Straight talks are meat and drink to me,” said Thalia Drummond. + +“Do you remember the money that went out by registered post last +Friday to the Sellinger Corporation?” + +Thalia nodded. + +“Well, I suppose you know that they claim that when the package +arrived it contained nothing but paper?” + +“Is that so?” asked Thalia. “Mr. Brabazon has said nothing to me about +it,” and she returned the other’s scrutinising glance without +faltering. + +“I packed that money in the envelope,” said Milly Macroy slowly, “and +you had it to check. There’s only you and me in this business, Miss +Drummond, and one of us pinched the money, and I’ll swear it wasn’t +me.” + +“Then it must be me,” said Thalia with an innocent smile. “Really, +Macroy, that’s a fairly serious accusation to make against an innocent +female.” + +The admiration in Milly’s eyes increased. + +“You’re a Thorough-Bad, if ever there was one!” she said. “Now, look +here, kid, let’s put all our cards on the table. A month ago, soon +after you came to the bank, there was a hundred note missing from the +Foreign Exchange desk.” + +“Well?” asked Thalia when she paused. + +“Well, I happen to know that you had it and that it was changed by you +at Bilbury’s in the Strand. I can tell you the number if you want to +know.” + +Thalia swung round and looked at the other under lowered brows. + +“What have we here?” she asked in mock consternation. “A female +sleuth! Heavens, I am indeed undone!” + +The extravagant mockery of it all took Milly aback. + +“You’ve got ice in your brain!” she said. She leant forward and laid +her hand on the girl’s arm. “There may be trouble over this Sellinger +business, and you will want all the friends you can get.” + +“So will you, for the matter of that,” said Thalia coolly. “You +handled the money.” + +“And you took it,” said the other, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t +let us have any argument about it, Drummond. If we stick together +there’ll be no trouble at all--I can swear that the envelope was +sealed in my presence and that the money was there.” + +There was a dancing light of amusement in Thalia Drummond’s eyes and +she laughed silently. + +“All right,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Let it +go at that. Now, I suppose, having saved me from ruin, you’re going to +ask me a favour? I’ll set your mind at rest about the money. I took it +because I had a good home for it. I need money frequently and anyway +there have been lots of postal robberies lately. There was a long +article in the paper about it the other day. Now go ahead.” + +Milly Macroy, who had not a slight acquaintance with the criminal +classes, stared at the girl in amazement. + +“You’re ice all right,” she nodded, “but you’ve got to cut out this +cheap pilfering, otherwise you’re liable to spoil a real big thing and +I can’t afford to see it spoilt. If you want a share of big money +you’ve got to come in with people who are working big--do you get +that?” + +“I get it,” said Thalia, “and who are your collaborators?” + +Miss Macroy did not recognise the term but answered discreetly: + +“There’s a gentleman I know----” + +“Say ‘man’,” said Thalia. “Gentleman always reminds me of a tailor’s +ad.” + +“Well, a man if you like,” said the patient Miss Macroy. “He’s a +friend of mine and he’s been watching you for a week or two, and he +thinks you’re the kind of clever girl who might make a lot of money +without trouble. I told him about the other affair and he wants to see +you.” + +“Another admirer?” asked Thalia Drummond with a lift of her perfect +eyebrows, and Macroy’s face darkened. + +“There’ll be none of that, you understand, Drummond,” she said +decisively. “This fellow and I are sort of--engaged.” + +“Heaven forbid,” said Thalia Drummond piously, “that I should come +between two loving hearts.” + +“And you needn’t be sarcastic either,” said Macroy, redder still. “I +tell you that there’s to be no lovey-dovey stuff in this. It’s real +business, you understand?” + +Thalia played with her paper-knife. Presently she asked: + +“Suppose I don’t want to come into your combination?” + +Milly Macroy looked suspiciously at the girl. + +“Come and have a bit of dinner after the bank closes,” she said. + +“Nothing but invitations to dinner,” murmured Thalia and the +nimble-witted Milly Macroy jumped at the truth. + +“The old boy asked you to dinner, did he?” she demanded. “Well, ain’t +that luck!” She whistled and her eyes brightened. She was about to +offer a confidence, but changed her mind. “He’s got loads of money out +of money-lending. My dear, I can see you with a diamond necklace in a +week or two!” + +Thalia straightened herself and took up her pen. + +“Pearls are my weakness,” she said. “All right, Macroy, I’ll see you +to-night,” and she went on working. + +Milly Macroy lingered. + +“Look here, you’re not going to tell this gentleman what I said about +my being engaged to him, are you?” + +“There’s Brab’s bell,” said Thalia, rising and taking up her notebook +as a buzzer sounded. “No, I’m not going to discuss anything of the +kind--I hate fairy stories anyway.” + +Miss Macroy looked after the retreating figure of the girl with an +expression which was not friendly. + +Mr. Brabazon was sitting at his desk when the girl came in, and handed +her a sealed envelope. + +“Send this by hand,” he said. + +Thalia looked at the address and nodded, and then looked at Mr. +Brabazon with a new interest. Truly the Crimson Circle was recruited +from many and various classes. + + + + + Chapter XV. + Thalia Joins the Gang + +Thalia Drummond was almost the last of the staff to leave the bank +that night, and she stood on the steps looking idly from left to right +as she pulled on her gloves. If she saw the man who was watching her +from the opposite side of the road she did not reveal the fact by so +much as a glance. Presently her eyes lighted upon Milly waiting a few +yards up the street, and she walked toward her. + +“You’ve been a long time, Drummond,” grumbled Miss Macroy. “You +mustn’t keep my friend waiting, you know. He doesn’t like it.” + +“He’ll get over that,” said Thalia. “I do not run to time-table where +men are concerned.” + +She fell in by Milly’s side and they walked a hundred yards along the +busy thoroughfare before they turned into Reeder Street. + +The restaurants in Reeder Street have taken to themselves names which +are designed to suggest the gaiety and epicurean wonders of Paris. The +“Moulin Gris” was a small, deep shop which, with the aid of numerous +mirrors and the application of gold leaf, had managed to create an +atmosphere of cramped splendour. + +The tables were set for dinner and empty, for it was two hours before +the meal, and to the proprietors of the “Moulin Gris” such a function +as afternoon tea was unknown. They went up a narrow stairway to +another dining-room on the first floor, and a man who was seated at +one of the tables rose briskly to meet them. He was a sleek, dark, +young man, his beautifully brilliantined hair was brushed back from +his forehead, and he was dressed, if not in the height of fashion, at +least in the height of the fashion which he favoured. + +A faint odour of _l’origan_, a soft large hand, a pair of bright +unwinking eyes, were the first impressions which Thalia received. + +“Sit down, sit down, Miss Drummond,” he said brightly. “Waiter, bring +that tea.” + +“This is Thalia Drummond,” said Miss Macroy, unnecessarily it seemed. + +“We needn’t be introduced,” laughed the young man. “I’ve heard a lot +about you, Miss Drummond. My name’s Barnet.” + +“‘Flush’ Barnet,” said Thalia, and he seemed surprised and not +ill-pleased. + +“You’ve heard of me, have you?” + +“She’s heard of everything,” said Miss Macroy in resignation, “and +what’s more,” she added significantly, “she knows Marl, and is dining +with him to-night.” + +Barnet looked sharply from one to the other, then back again at Milly +Macroy. + +“Have you told her anything?” he asked. There was a note of menace in +his voice. + +“You don’t have to tell her anything,” said Miss Macroy recklessly. +“She knows it all!” + +“Did you tell her?” he repeated. + +“About Marl? No, I thought you’d tell her that.” + +The waiter brought the tea at that moment and there was a silence +until he had gone. + +“Now, I’m a plain-spoken man,” said “Flush” Barnet. “And I’m going to +tell you what I call you.” + +“This sounds interesting,” said the girl, never taking her eyes from +his face. + +“I call you Thorough-Bad Thalia. How’s that? Good, eh?” said Mr. +Barnet, leaning back in his chair and surveying her. “Thorough-Bad +Thalia! You’re a naughty girl! I was in court the day old Froyant +charged you with pinching!” + +He shook his head waggishly. + +“You’re as full of information as last year’s almanac,” said Thalia +Drummond coolly. “I suppose you didn’t bring me here to exchange +compliments?” + +“No, I didn’t,” admitted “Flush” Barnet, and the jealous Miss Macroy +recognised, by certain signs, the fascination that the girl was +casting over her lover. “I brought you here to talk business. We’re +all friends here, and we’re all in the same old business. I want to +tell you straight away that I’m not one of your little thieving +crooks, who lives from hand to mouth.” + +He spoke very correctly, but aspirated his “h’s” just a trifle heavily +Thalia duly remarked. + +“I have people behind me who can find money to any amount if the job +is good enough, and you’re spoiling a good pitch, Thalia.” + +“Oh, I am, am I?” said Thalia. “Admitting I am all you think I am, in +what way do I spoil the pitch?” + +Mr. Barnet rolled his head from side to side with a smile. + +“My dear girl,” he said with good-natured reproach. “How long do you +think you’re going to last, taking money from envelopes and sending on +old bits of paper? Eh? If my friend Brabazon hadn’t got the idea into +his silly head that the fraud was worked in the post, you’d have had +the police in your office in no time. And when I say my friend +Brabazon, I’m not being funny, see?” + +Here, he evidently thought he had said too much, though he found it +very difficult indeed to leave the question of his friendship with the +austere banker. Challenged, he might have said more, but Thalia +offered no comment. + +“Now, I’m going to tell you something,” he leant over the table and +regulated his voice. “Milly and me have been working Brabazon’s bank +for two months. There’s a big lot of money to be got, but not out of +the bank--Brabazon is a friend of mine--but it can be done through one +of the clients, and the man with the biggest balance is Marl.” + +Her lips curled for the second time that day. + +“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said quietly. “Marl’s balance +wouldn’t buy a row of beans.” + +He stared at her incredulously, then looked at Milly Macroy with a +frown. + +“You told me that he had the best part of a hundred thousand----” + +“So he has,” said the girl. + +“He had until to-day,” replied Thalia. “But this afternoon Mr. +Brabazon went out--I think he went to the Bank of England, because the +notes were all new. He sent for me and I saw them stacked up on his +desk. He told me he was closing Marl’s account, and that he was not +the kind of man he wanted as a client. Then he took the money and +called on Marl, I think, for when he came back just before the bank +closed he handed me Marl’s cheque.” + +“‘I’ve settled that account, Miss Drummond,’ he said. ‘I don’t think +we’ll be troubled with that blackguard again.’” + +“Did he know about Marl asking you out to dinner?” asked Milly, but +the girl shook her head. + +Mr. Barnet said nothing. He was sitting back in his chair, fondling +his chin, with a faraway look in his eyes. + +“A big amount, was it?” he asked. + +“Sixty-two thousand,” replied the girl. + +“And it is in his house?” said Barnet, his face pink with excitement. +“Sixty-two thousand! Did you hear that, Milly? And you’re dining with +him to-night?” said “Flush” Barnet slowly and significantly. “Now, +what about it?” + +She met his gaze without flinching. + +“What about what?” she asked. + +“Here’s the chance of a lifetime,” he said, husky with emotion. +“You’re going to the house. You’re not above stringing the old man +along, are you, Thalia?” + +She was silent. + +“I know the place,” said “Flush” Barnet, “one of those quaint little +houses in Kensington that cost a fortune to keep up. Marisburg Place, +Bayswater Road.” + +“I know the address pretty well,” said the girl. + +“He keeps three menservants,” said “Flush” Barnet, “but they’re +usually out any night he happens to be entertaining a lady friend. Do +you get me?” + +“But he’s not entertaining me in his house,” said the girl. + +“What’s the matter with a little bit of supper after the show, eh?” +asked Barnet. “Suppose he puts it up to you, and you say yes. There’ll +be no servants in the house when you get back. That I’ll take my oath. +I’ve studied Marl.” + +“What do you expect me to do? Rob him?” asked Thalia. “Stick a gun +under his nose and say, ‘Deliver your pieces of eight’?” + +“Don’t be a fool,” said Mr. Barnet, startled out of his pose of +elegant gentleman. “You’re to do nothing but have your supper and come +away. Keep him amused, make him laugh. You needn’t be frightened +because I’ll be in the house soon after you, and if there’s any +trouble I’ll be on hand.” + +The girl was playing with her teaspoon, her eyes fixed on the +tablecloth. + +“Suppose he doesn’t send his servants away?” + +“You can bank on that,” interrupted Mr. Barnet. “Moses! There never +was such a wonderful opportunity! Do you agree?” + +Thalia shook her head. + +“It is too big for me. Maybe you’re right and I’m likely to get into +trouble, but it seems to me that petty pilfering is my long suit.” + +“Bah!” said Barnet in disgust. “You’re mad! Now’s your time to make a +harvest, my dear. You’re not known to the police. You’re not under the +limelight like me. Are you going to do it?” + +She dropped her eyes again to the cloth and again fidgeted with her +spoon nervously. + +“All right,” she said with a sudden shrug, “I might as well be hung +for a sheep as a lamb.” + +“Or for a good share of sixty thousand as for a miserable couple of +hundred, eh?” said Barnet jovially, and beckoned the waiter. + +Thalia left the restaurant and turned homeward. She had to pass the +bank, and it was not good policy, she thought, to hail a taxicab until +she had left the neighbourhood, where Mr. Brabazon’s grave eyes might +observe her extravagance. She had turned into the stream of +pedestrians that thronged Regent Street at this hour when she felt a +touch on her arm, and turned. + +A young man was walking by her side, a good-looking, keen-faced young +man who did not smile ingratiatingly as others had done who had nudged +her arm in Regent Street, nor did he inquire if she were going the +same way as he. + +“Thalia!” + +She turned quickly at the sound of the voice, and for a second her +self-possession failed her. + +“Mr. Beardmore!” she faltered. + +Jack’s face was flushed and he was obviously embarrassed. + +“I only wanted to speak to you for a moment. I have waited for a week +for the opportunity,” he said hurriedly. + +“You knew I was at Brabazon’s--who told you?” + +He hesitated. + +“Inspector Parr,” he said, and when he saw the smile curl on the +girl’s lips, he went on: “Old Parr isn’t a bad sort, really. He has +never said another word against you, Thalia.” + +“Another!” she quoted, “but does it really matter? And now, Mr. +Beardmore, I really must go. I have a very important engagement.” + +But he held fast to her hand. + +“Thalia, won’t you tell me why you did it?” he asked quietly. “Who is +behind you?” + +She laughed. + +“There is a reason for your keeping this extraordinary company,” he +went on, when she stopped him. + +“What extraordinary company?” she demanded. + +“You have just come from a restaurant,” he said. “You have been there +with a man called ‘Flush’ Barnet, a notorious crook and a man who has +served a term of penal servitude. The woman with you was Milly Macroy, +a confederate of his who was concerned in the Darlington Co-Operative +robbery and has also served a term of imprisonment. At present she is +engaged at Brabazon’s Bank.” + +“Well?” said the girl again. + +“Surely you don’t know the character of these people?” urged Jack. + +“And how do you know them?” she asked calmly. “Am I wrong in supposing +that you were not alone in your--vigil? Were you accompanied by the +admirable Mr. Parr? I see you were. Why, you are almost a policeman +yourself, Mr. Beardmore.” + +Jack was staggered. + +“Do you realise that it is Parr’s duty to inform your employer that +you keep that kind of company?” he asked. “For heaven’s sake, Thalia, +take a sane view of your position.” + +But she laughed. + +“Heaven forbid that I should interfere with the duty of a responsible +police officer,” she said, “but on the whole I’d rather Mr. Parr +didn’t. That at least is a sign of grace,” she smiled. “Yes, I’d much +rather he didn’t. I don’t mind the police speaking to me for my good +because it is only right and proper that they should try to lead the +weak from their sinful ways. But an employer who attempts to reform an +erring girl might be a bit of a nuisance, don’t you think?” + +In spite of himself he laughed. + +“Really, Thalia, you’re much too clever for the kind of company you’re +keeping and for the kind of life you’re drifting to,” he added +earnestly. “I know I have no right to interfere, but perhaps I could +help you. Particularly,” he hesitated, “if you have done something +which places you in the power of these people.” + +She put out her hand with a rare smile. + +“Good-bye,” she said sweetly, and left him feeling something of a +fool. + +The girl walked quickly through Burlington Arcade to Piccadilly and +entered a taxi. The block of mansions at which she alighted was +situated in the Marylebone Road and was a distinct improvement on +Lexington Street. + +The liveried porter took her up in the elevator to the third floor, +and she let herself into a flat which was both prettily and +expensively furnished. + +She pressed a bell, and it was answered by a staid middle-aged woman. + +“Martha,” she said, “I shan’t want any tea, thank you. Lay out my blue +evening gown and telephone to Waltham’s Garage and tell them that I +shall want a car to be here at five minutes before half past seven.” + +Miss Drummond’s wages from the bank were exactly £4 a week. + + + + + Chapter XVI. + Mr. Marl Goes Out + +“So you’ve come, eh?” said Mr. Marl, rising to greet the girl. “My +word, but you look smart! And you look lovely, my dear, too!” + +He took both her hands in his and led her into the little gold and +white drawing-room. + +“Lovely!” he repeated in an almost hushed voice. “I can tell you I was +a little bit scared about taking you to the Ritz-Carlton. You don’t +mind my frankness, do you--have a cigarette?” + +He fumbled in the tail-pocket of his dress coat, produced a large gold +case and opened it. + +“You thought I’d turn up in one of Morne & Gillingsworth’s six guinea +models, eh?” she laughed as she lit the cigarette. + +“Well, I did, my dear. I’ve had a lot of unhappy experiences,” +explained Marl as he seated himself heavily in an arm-chair. “I’ve had +’em turn up in queer clothes, I can tell you!” + +“Do you make a practice of entertaining the young and the fair?” +Thalia had seated herself on the big padded fireguard and was looking +down at him under her half-closed lids. + +“Well,” said Mr. Marl complacently, rubbing his hands. “I’m not so old +that I don’t get some pleasure out of ladies’ society. But you’re +stunning!” + +He was a blonde, red-faced man with suspiciously brown hair, +suspiciously even teeth, and for this evening he had acquired a waist +which seemed wholly unreal. + +“We’re going to dinner and then we’ll go on and see ‘The Boys and the +Girls’ at the Winter Palace,” he said, “and then,” he hesitated, “what +do you say to a little supper?” he asked. + +“A little supper? I don’t take supper,” said the girl. + +“Well, you can peck a bit of fruit, I suppose?” suggested Mr. Marl. + +“Where?” asked the girl steadily. “Most of the restaurants are closed +before the theatres are out, aren’t they?” + +“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t come back here? You’re not a +prude, my dear, are you?” + +“Not much,” she confessed. + +“I can see you home in my car,” he said. + +“I’ve got my own car, thank you,” said the girl, and Mr. Marl’s eyes +opened. Then he began to laugh steadily at first, and his laughter +ended in an asthmatical paroxysm. Presently he gasped: “Oh, you wicked +little devil!” + +The evening was an interesting one for Thalia, more interesting by +reason of the fact that she caught a glimpse of Mr. “Flush” Barnet in +the hall of the hotel as she passed through. + +It was after the theatre was over and they were standing in the +vestibule, waiting for the lift-man to call their car, that Thalia +showed some symptom of hesitation, but the eloquent Mr. Felix Marl +overcame whatever reluctance she felt, and as the clock was striking +the half hour after eleven she passed into the hall, not failing to +notice that Mr. Marl did not ring for his servants, but let himself in +with his own latchkey. + +The supper was laid in a rose-panelled dining-room. + +“I will help you, my dear,” said Mr. Marl. “We won’t bother about the +servants.” But she shook her head. + +“I can eat nothing, and I think I’ll go home now,” she said. + +“Wait, wait,” he begged. “I want to have a little talk with you about +your boss. I can do you a lot of good in that firm--at the bank, +Thalia. Who called you Thalia?” + +“My godfathers and godmothers, M. or N.” said Thalia solemnly, and Mr. +Marl squeaked his delight at her humour. + +He was passing behind her, ostensibly to reach one of the dishes which +were set on the table, when he stooped and, had she not slipped from +his grasp, would have kissed her. + +“I think I’ll go home,” said Thalia. + +“Rubbish!” Mr. Marl was annoyed, and when Mr. Marl was annoyed he +forgot that he made any pretensions to gentle birth. “Come and sit +down.” + +She looked at him long and thoughtfully, and then, turning suddenly, +went to the door, and turned the handle. It was locked. + +“I think you had better open this door, Mr. Marl,” she said quietly. + +“I think not,” chuckled Mr. Marl. “Now, Thalia, be the dear, good +little girl I thought you were.” + +“I should hate to dissipate any illusions you may have about my +character,” said Thalia coolly. “You’ll open that door, please.” + +“Certainly.” + +He ambled toward the door, feeling in his pocket, then before she +could realise his intention he had seized her in his arms. He was a +powerful man, a head taller than she, and his big hands gripped her +arms like steel clamps. + +“Let me go,” said Thalia steadily. She did not lose her nerve nor show +the least sign of fear. + +Suddenly he felt her tense muscles relax. He had conquered. + +With a quick intake of breath he released his hold of the sullen girl. + +“Let me have some supper,” she said, and he beamed. + +“Now, my dear, you are being the little girl I--what’s that?” + +The last was a squeak of terror. + +She had strolled slowly to the table and had taken up the brocade bag. +He had watched her and thought she was seeking a handkerchief. Instead +she had produced a small, black, egg-shaped thing, and with a flick of +her left hand had pulled out a small pin and dropped the pin on to the +table. He knew what it was--he had dabbled in army supplies and had +seen many Mills bombs. + +“Put it down--no, no, put the pin in, you young fool!” he whimpered. + +“Don’t worry,” she said coolly. “I have a spare pin in my bag--open +that door!” + +His hand shook like a man with palsy as he fumbled at the keyhole. +Then he turned and blinked at her. + +“A Mills bomb!” he mumbled, and fell back an obese mass of quivering +flesh against the delicate panelling. + +Slowly she nodded. + +“A Mills bomb,” she said softly, and went out, still gripping the +lever of the deadly egg-like thing. He followed her to the door and +slammed it after her, then went shakily up the stairs to his bedroom. + +“Flush” Barnet, standing in the shadow of a clothes-press, heard the +click of locks and the snap of a bolt as Mr. Marl entered his room. + +The house was still. Through the thick door of Mr. Marl’s bedroom no +sound came. There was no transom to the door, and the only evidence +that there was somebody in his room was afforded by a fret of light in +the ceiling of the passage, which came through a ventilator in the +wall of the bedroom. + +During the war this house had been used as an officers’ convalescent +home, and certain hygienic arrangements had been introduced, which +were more useful than beautiful. + +“Flush” crept softly in his stockinged feet to the door and listened. +He thought he heard the man talking to himself and looked around for +some means by which he could obtain a view of the room. There was a +small oaken table in the corridor and he placed this against the wall +and mounted. His eyes came to the level of the ventilator and he +looked down upon Mr. Marl pacing the room in his shirt-sleeves, +obviously disturbed. Then “Flush” Barnet heard a sound. Just a faint +“hush-hush” of feet on a carpet, and he slipped down, walked quickly +along the corridor, passing the head of the stairs. + +The hall below was in darkness, but he felt rather than saw a figure +on the stairway. Whether it was man or woman he could not say, and did +not stop to discover. It might be one of the servants returning +furtively--servants did not always stay away when they were bidden. +“Flush” passed to the farther end of the corridor and from an angle in +the wall watched. He saw nobody pass the head of the stairs, but there +was no background. After a while he crept back again. There was +nothing to be gained by forcing the door of Marl’s bedroom, even if it +were possible. He had had time to inspect the house at his leisure, +and he had already decided upon investigating the little safe in the +library, for Mr. Marl’s own room had drawn blank. + +The “investigation,” which took two hours and the employment of one of +the best sets of tools in the profession, was not unprofitable. But it +did not reveal the huge sum of money which he anticipated. He +hesitated. The night was too far through to make an attempt on the +bedroom, even if he had not already searched it from wall to wall. He +folded his kit and slipped it into one pocket, his loot into another, +and went upstairs again. There was no sound from Marl’s room, but the +light was still on. He tried to look through the keyhole, but the key +was still there. The only inducement there was for him to enter the +room was the possibility that the money was in the man’s clothes. This +likelihood was remote, he thought. Possibly Marl had taken it to some +safe deposit--a contingency which Barnet had foreseen. + +He went slowly down the stairs, through the hall and the butler’s +pantry to the side door, where he had left his boots, his overcoat and +his shiny silk hat, for he was in evening dress. Then he stole softly +forth along the covered passage-way running by the side of the house. +Here a door opened into the little forecourt of Marl’s house. He +reached the garden and his hand was on the gate when somebody touched +him and he spun round. + +“I want you ‘Flush,’” said a well-remembered voice. “Inspector Parr. +You may remember me?” + +“Parr!” gasped the bewildered Barnet, and with an oath wrenched +himself free and leapt through the gate, but the three policemen who +were waiting for him were not so easy to dispose of, and they marched +“Flush” Barnet to the nearest police station, a worried man. + +In the meantime Parr conducted a search of his own. Accompanied by a +detective he made his way to the hall of the house and up the stairs. + +“This is the only room occupied apparently,” he said, and knocked at +the door. + +There was no reply. + +“Go along and see if you can rouse any of the servants,” said Parr. + +The man came back with the startling information that there were no +servants in the house. + +“There’s somebody here,” said the old inspector, and flashing his lamp +along the corridor he saw the table, and with an agility remarkable in +one of his age, he leapt up and peered through the ventilator. + +“I can just see somebody asleep,” he said. “Hi! Wake up!” he called, +but there was no reply. + +Hammering on the door did not produce any response. + +“Go down and see if you can find a hatchet, we’ll break open the +door,” said Parr. “I don’t like this.” + +Hatchet there was none, but they found a hammer. + +“Can you show a light, Mr. Parr?” asked the man, and the inspector +flashed his lamp on the door. It was a white door--white except for +the Crimson Circle affixed to a panel as by a rubber stamp. + +“Break in the door,” said Parr, breathing heavily. + +For five minutes they smashed at a panel before they finally hammered +it through, and the sleeper within gave no sign of consciousness. + +Parr reached his hand through the door, turned the key and, by dint of +stretching, found the bolt at the top. He slipped into the room. The +light was still burning and its rays fell across the man on the bed, +who lay upon his back, a twisted smile on his face, most obviously +dead. + + + + + Chapter XVII. + The Blower of Bubbles + +It was long after midnight and Derrick Yale was sitting in his +pretty little study--he lived in a flat overlooking the park--when the +knock came to the door and he rose to admit Inspector Parr. + +Parr related the incident of the evening. + +“But why didn’t you tell me?” asked Derrick a little reproachfully, +and then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I always seem to be butting +in on your affairs. But how came the murderer to escape? You say you +had had the house surrounded for two hours. Did the girl come out?” + +“Undoubtedly; she came out and drove home.” + +“And nobody else went in?” + +“I wouldn’t like to swear that,” said Parr. “Whoever was in the house +had probably arrived long before Marl returned from the theatre. I +have since discovered that there was a way out through the garage at +the back of the house. When I said the house was surrounded that was +an exaggeration. There was a way through the back garden which I did +not know. I didn’t even suspect there were gardens there. Undoubtedly +he went through the garage door.” + +“Do you suspect the girl at all?” + +Parr shook his head. + +“But why were you surrounding Marl’s house at all?” asked Derrick Yale +seriously. + +The answer was as unexpected as it was sensational. + +“Because Marl has been under police observation ever since he came +back to London,” said Parr. “In fact, ever since I discovered that he +was the man who wrote the letter, the scrap of which I found and which +I compared last week with his writing--I asked him for the address of +his tailor.” + +“Marl?” said the other incredulously. + +Inspector Parr nodded. + +“I don’t know what there was between old man Beardmore and Marl, or +what brought him to the house. I’ve been trying to reconstruct the +scene. You may remember that when Marl came to the house on a visit he +was suddenly seized with a panic.” + +“I remember,” nodded Yale. “Jack Beardmore told me about it. Well?” + +“He refused to stay at the house, said he was going back to London,” +said Parr. “As a matter of fact, he went no farther than Kingside, +which is a station some eight or nine miles away. He sent his bag on +to London and came back by road. He was probably the person whom the +murderer saw in the wood that night. Now why had he come back if he +was so scared that he ran away in the first place? And why did he +write that letter for delivery in the night when he had every +opportunity to tell James Beardmore by day, when he was with him?” + +There was a long silence. + +“How was Marl killed?” asked Yale. + +The other shook his head. + +“That is a mystery to me. The murderer could not possibly have entered +the room. I had an interview with ‘Flush’ Barnet--as yet he knows +nothing about the murder--and he admits he broke in for the purpose of +burglary. He says he heard the sound of somebody moving about the +house, and very naturally hid himself. He also says he heard a strange +hissing sound, like air escaping from a pipe. Another remarkable clue +was a round wet patch on the pillow, within a few inches of the dead +man’s hand. It was exactly circular. At first I thought it was a +symbol of the Crimson Circle, until I discovered another patch on the +counterpane. The doctor has not been able to diagnose the cause of +death, but the motive is clear. According to his banker--I’ve just +been talking to Brabazon on the telephone--he drew a large sum of +money from the bank yesterday. In fact, Brabazon closed his account. +They had a quarrel over something or other. The safe was of course +opened by ‘Flush’ Barnet, but there was no money found on him when he +was searched at the police station. Curiously enough, we did discover +several little oddments that ‘Flush’ had picked up--now, who took the +money?” + +Derrick Yale paced the floor, his hands behind him, his chin on his +breast. + +“Do you know anything of Brabazon?” he asked. + +The other did not reply immediately. + +“Only that he is a banker and does a lot of foreign work.” + +“Is he solvent?” asked Derrick Yale bluntly, and the inspector raised +his dull eyes slowly until they were on a level with the other’s. + +“No,” he said, “and I don’t mind telling you that we’ve had one or two +complaints about his methods.” + +“Were they good friends--Marl and Brabazon?” + +“Fairly good,” was the hesitating reply. “The impression I have from +reports is that Marl had some hold over Brabazon.” + +“And Brabazon was insolvent,” mused Derrick Yale. “And this afternoon +Marl closes his account. In what circumstances? Did he come to the +bank?” + +Briefly the detective explained what had happened. It seemed that +there was precious little that did happen at Brabazon’s bank that he +did not know. + +Derrick Yale was beginning to respect this man, whom at first he had +regarded, with a good-natured scorn, as a little stupid. + +“I wonder if it would be possible for me to go to Marl’s house +to-night?” + +“I came to suggest that,” said the other. “In fact, I kept a cab +waiting at the door with that idea.” + +Derrick Yale did not speak during the journey to Bayswater, and it was +not until he stood in the hall of the house in Marisburg Place that he +broke the silence. + +“We ought to find a small steel cylinder somewhere,” he said slowly. + +The policeman standing on duty in the hall came forward and saluted +the inspector. + +“We found an iron bottle in the garage, sir?” he said. + +“Ah!” cried Derrick Yale triumphantly. “I thought so!” + +He almost ran up the stairs ahead of the detective and paused in the +passage, which was now lighted. The little oak table stood against the +ventilator and toward that he moved. Then he went down on his hands +and knees and sniffed the carpet. Presently he choked and coughed and +got up, red in the face. + +“Let me see that cylinder,” he said. + +They brought it to him. The policeman’s description of it as a bottle +was nearer the truth. It was an iron bottle, at the end of which was +a small pipe to which was attached a tiny turn-key. + +“And now there ought to be a cup somewhere,” he said, looking round, +“unless he brought it in a bottle.” + +“There was a small glass bottle in the garage near this, sir,” said +the policeman who had found it, “it is broken, though.” + +“Bring it to me quickly,” said Yale. “And I can only hope that it +isn’t so completely smashed that none of its contents are left.” + +The stout Mr. Parr was regarding him sombrely. + +“What is all this about?” he asked, and Derrick Yale chuckled. + +“A new way of committing a murder, my dear Mr. Parr,” he said airily, +“now let us go into the room.” + +The body of Marl lay on the bed covered by a sheet and the circular +patch of wet on the pillow had not dried. The windows were open and a +fitful wind kept the curtains fluttering. + +“Of course you can’t smell it here,” said Yale speaking to himself, +and again went on his knees and nosed the carpet. And again he coughed +and rose hurriedly. + +By this time they had returned with the lower half of a glass bottle. +It contained a few drops of liquid, and this Yale poured into his +hand. + +“Soap and water,” he said; “I thought it would be. And now I’ll +explain how Marl was killed. Your thief, ‘Flush’ Barnet, heard a +hissing sound. It was the sound of a heavy gas escaping from this +cylinder. I may be wrong, but I should imagine there is enough poison +gas in that little iron bottle to settle your account and mine. It is +still lying on the floor, by the way. It is one of those heavy gases +which descend.” + +“But how did it kill Marl? Did they pump it through the grating on to +his head?” + +Derrick Yale shook his head. + +“It is a much simpler and a much more deadly method which the Crimson +Circle employed,” he said quietly. “They blew bubbles.” + +“Bubbles!” + +Derrick Yale nodded. + +“The end of this cylinder--you can still feel the slime of the soap +upon it--was first dipped into the soap solution, then thrust through +the grating. The tap was turned down and a bubble formed, which was +shaken off. From the ventilator,” he ran outside and jumped on to the +table, “yes, I thought so,” he said, “he could see Marl’s head. Two or +three of the bubbles must have been failures. One struck the pillow, +but I should imagine that that was blown after his death; one struck +the wall, you will find the wet patch, but one, and probably more, +burst on his face. He must have been killed almost instantaneously.” + +Parr could only gape. + +“I thought it all out on the way here. The circular patch on the +pillow reminded me of my own boyish exploits and their disastrous +effect when I started blowing bubbles in the bedroom. And then when +you mentioned the ventilator and the hissing noise, I was perfectly +certain that my theory was right.” + +“But we smelt no gas when we came into the room,” said Parr. + +“The wind may have blown away the fumes,” said Derrick Yale. “But +apart from that, the weight of the gas would send it to the floor, and +by its own density it would spread evenly--look!” He struck a match, +shielded it for a moment until it caught light, and then slowly +brought it down to the floor level. An inch from the carpet the match +was suddenly extinguished. + +“I see,” said Inspector Parr. + +“Now what about searching the place? Perhaps I can be of use,” +suggested Yale, but his offer of help did not meet with any very +gracious response. + +A small police audience, which had listened awe-stricken whilst Yale +had developed his theory, could understand the inspector’s feelings. +Apparently Yale did, too, for with a good-humoured laugh he made his +excuses and went home. There are moments when the head-quarters police +should be left alone with their own emotions. Nobody realised this +more than Derrick Yale. + + + + + Chapter XVIII. + “Flush” Barnet’s Story + +Inspector Parr, after a further search, proceeded to the nearest +police station to interview Mr. “Flush” Barnet. + +“Flush,” a depressed and weary man, had no illuminating information to +give. + +The proceeds of his robbery lay upon the station-sergeant’s table, a +miscellaneous collection of rings and watches, a perfectly valueless +bank-book--valueless to “Flush,” at any rate--and a silver flask. But +the most surprising circumstance was that in “Flush” Barnet’s pocket +were two brand new bank-notes for a hundred pounds, which he insisted +stoutly were his own property. + +Now burglars, and particularly the type of burglar that “Flush” Barnet +was, are notoriously improvident people. They do not work whilst they +have money, and with two hundred pounds in his possession, it is +certain that “Flush” Barnet would not have attempted to break into +Marisburg Place. + +“They’re my own, I tell you, Mr. Parr,” he protested, “would I tell +you a lie?” + +“Of course you would,” said Inspector Parr without heat. “If they are +your own, where did you get them?” + +“They were given to me by a friend.” + +“Why did you light a fire in the library?” asked Parr unexpectedly, +and “Flush” Barnet started. + +“Because I was cold,” he said after a pause. + +“H’m,” said Inspector Parr, and then as though speaking his thoughts +aloud, “he has two hundred of his own, he breaks into a house, he +burgles a safe and lights a fire. Now, why did he light the fire? Why +did he light the fire? To burn something he’d found in the safe!” + +“Flush” Barnet listened without offering any comment, but he was +visibly distressed. + +“Therefore,” said Parr, “you were paid to break into Marl’s house and +you got two hundred for pinching something from his safe and burning +it. Am I right?” + +“If I died this moment----” began “Flush” Barnet. + +“You’d go to hell,” said the inspector dispassionately, “where all +liars go. Who is your pal, Barnet? You’d better tell me, because I’m +in two minds whether I shall charge you with the murder----” + +“Murder!” almost screamed “Flush” Barnet, as he sprang to his feet. +“What do you mean? I haven’t committed a murder!” + +“Marl’s dead, that’s all; found dead in his bed.” + +He left the prisoner in a state of mental prostration, and when he +returned in the early hours of the morning to renew his inquisition, +“Flush” Barnet told him all. + +“I don’t know anything about Crimson Circles, Mr. Parr,” he said, “but +this is the truth.” + +He added a pious wish that Providence would deal hardly with him if he +departed from veracity. + +“I’m keeping company with a young lady at Brabazon’s bank. One night +when she was working late, I was waiting for her when a gentleman came +out of the side entrance of the bank and called me. I was surprised to +hear him mention my name, and I nearly dropped dead when I saw his +face.” + +“It was Mr. Brabazon?” suggested Parr. + +“That’s right, sir. He asked me into his private office. I thought +he’d got something against Milly.” + +“Go on,” said Parr, when the man paused. + +“Well, I’ve got to save myself, haven’t I? And I suppose I’d better +speak the whole truth. He told me that Marl was blackmailing him, and +that Marl had some letters of his which he kept in his private safe, +and offered me a thousand if I’d get them. That’s the truth. And then +he gave me an idea that Marl kept a lot of money in the house. He +didn’t exactly say so, but that is what he hinted. He knew I’d been +inside for burglary, he’d made inquiries about me, and said that I was +the right kind of man. Well, sir, I went round and took a squint at +the place, and it seemed to me that it was a bit difficult. There were +always men servants in the house, except when Mr. Marl was +entertaining ladies to supper,” he grinned. “I’d have given up the +job, only there’s a young lady in the office that Marl was sweet on.” + +“Thalia Drummond?” suggested Parr. + +“That’s right, sir,” nodded “Flush.” “It was what you might call an +act of Providence, him being sweet on her, and when I found that he’d +invited her to dinner, I thought that was a good opportunity to get +in. It seemed money for nothing when I found out that he’d drawn his +bank balance. I opened the safe--that was easy--and I found the +envelope, but it had no papers, only a photograph of a man and a woman +on a rock. I think it was a photograph of some place abroad, for there +were lots of mountains in the background, and he seemed to be pushing +her over and she was holding on to a bit of tree. Maybe it was one of +those cinema pictures. Anyway, I burnt it.” + +“I see,” said Inspector Parr. “And that is all?” + +“That’s all, sir. I never found any money.” + +At seven o’clock, with a warrant in his pocket, and accompanied by two +detectives, Inspector Parr made a call at the block of flats where +Brabazon had his residence. + +A servant in night attire opened the door to them and indicated the +banker’s room. The door was locked, but Parr kicked it open without +ceremony. The room, however, was empty. An open window and a fire +escape suggested the method by which the eminent banker had made his +get-away, and the fact that the bed had not been slept in and that +there was no sign of disorder in the room, showed that he had gone +hours before the detective’s arrival. + +By the side of the bed there was a telephone, and Parr called the +exchange. + +“Can you find if any message came through to this number during the +night?” he asked. “I am Inspector Parr, of police head-quarters.” + +“Two,” was the reply. “I put them through myself. One from +Bayswater----” + +“That was mine,” said the Inspector. “What was the other?” + +“From the Western Exchange--at 2.30.” + +“Thank you,” said the inspector grimly, and hung up the telephone. + +He looked at his companions and rubbed his big nose irritably. + +“Thalia Drummond is going to get another job,” he said. + + + + + Chapter XIX. + Thalia Accepts an Offer + +It took over a week to settle the preliminaries of Brabazon’s +insolvency, and at the end of that time, Thalia walked from the bank +with a week’s salary in her little leather bag, and no immediate +prospects of employment. + +Inspector Parr had not minced his words, which he had addressed to her +before an impressed audience. + +“Only the fact that I saw you come out of Marl’s house and saw him +close the door on you, saves you from a serious charge,” he said. + +“If it had only saved me from a lecture also, I should have been +pleased,” said Thalia coolly. + +“What do you make of her?” asked Parr, as the girl disappeared through +the swing doors of the office. + +“She rather puzzles me,” it was Derrick Yale to whom he had addressed +his question. “And the more I think of her, the more I am puzzled. The +woman Macroy says that she has been engaged in pilfering since she has +been at the bank, but there is no proof of that. In fact, the only +person who could supply the proof is our absent friend, Brabazon. Why +didn’t you call her as a witness in the prosecution of Barnet?” + +“It would be a case of Barnet’s word against hers,” said the +detective, shaking his head, “and the case against Barnet was so clear +that I didn’t want any further evidence than my own eyes.” + +Yale was frowning thoughtfully. + +“I wonder,” he said, half to himself. + +“What do you wonder?” + +“I wonder if this girl could give us a little more information about +the Crimson Circle than we have at present. I’m half inclined to +engage her.” + +Parr muttered something under his breath. + +“I know you think I’m mad, but really I have method in my madness. +There is nothing to steal in my office; she would be under my eye all +the time, and if she were in communication with the Circle, I should +certainly know all about it. Besides, she interests me.” + +“Why did you shake hands with her?” asked Parr curiously, and the +other laughed. + +“That is why she interests me. I wanted to get an impression, and the +impression I had was of some dark, sinister force in the background of +her life. That girl is not working independently. She has behind +her----” + +“The Crimson Circle?” suggested Parr, and there was the suggestion of +a sneer in his tone. + +“Very likely,” said the other seriously. “Anyway, I’m going to see +her.” + +He called at Thalia’s flat that afternoon, and her servant showed him +into the pretty little drawing-room. A minute after Thalia came in, +and there was a smile in her fine eyes as she recognised her visitor. + +“Well, Mr. Yale, have you come to give me a few words of warning?” + +“Not exactly,” laughed Yale. “I’ve come to offer you a job.” + +Her eyebrows rose. + +“Do you want an assistant,” she asked ironically, “acting on the +principle that to catch a thief you must employ a thief? Or have you +views about my reformation? Several people want to reform me,” she +said. + +She sat down on the piano stool, her hands behind her, and he knew +that she was mocking him. + +“Why do you steal, Miss Drummond?” + +“Because it is my nature to,” she said without hesitation. “Why should +kleptomania be confined to the ruling classes?” + +“Do you get any satisfaction out of it?” he demanded. “I’m not asking +out of idle curiosity, but as a student of human man and woman.” + +She waved her hand round the apartment. + +“I have the satisfaction of a very comfortable home,” she said. “I +have a good servant, and I am not likely to starve. All these things +are particularly satisfying to me. Now tell me about the job, Mr. +Yale. Do you want me to be a policewoman?” + +“Not exactly,” he smiled, “but I want a secretary, somebody upon whom +I can rely. My work is increasing at a tremendous rate; my +correspondence is much more than I can cope with. I will add, that +there is little opportunity in my office for the exercise of your pet +vice,” he added good-humouredly, “and anyway, I’ll take that risk.” + +She considered a moment, looking at him steadily. + +“If you’re willing to take the risk, so am I,” she said at last. +“Where is your office?” + +He gave her the address. + +“I shall be with you at ten o’clock in the morning. Lock up your +cheque-book and clear away your loose change,” she said. + +“A remarkable girl,” he thought as he was going back to the city. + +He spoke no more than the truth when he had told Parr that she puzzled +him, and yet he had met with every type of criminal, and probably knew +more of criminal psychology than did Parr with all his experience. + +His mind strayed to Parr, that unhappy individual whom he knew was in +disgrace. How much longer would police head-quarters tolerate him +after this third failure to deal with the Crimson Circle, he wondered. + +Mr. Parr was thinking on the same lines that night. A brief official +memo, had awaited him on his arrival at head-quarters, and he read it +with a grimace of pain. And there was worse to follow, he guessed, and +he had good reason for that fear. + +The next morning he was summoned to the house of Mr. Froyant, and +found Derrick Yale already there. + +For all their good relationship, the chase of the Crimson Circle had +developed into a duel between these strangely different personalities. +It was an open secret in newspaper land that Parr’s impending ruin was +due less to the unchecked villainies of the Crimson Circle, than to +the superhuman brilliancy of this unofficial rival. To do him justice, +Yale did his best to discredit this view, but it was held. + +Froyant, for all his meanness and his knowledge of Yale’s heavy fees, +had commissioned him immediately after he had received the warning. +His faith in the police had evaporated, and he made no attempt to +disguise his scepticism. + +“Mr. Froyant has decided to pay,” were the words which greeted the +inspector. + +“Eh, of course I shall pay!” exploded Mr. Froyant. + +He had aged ten years in the past few days, thought Parr; his face was +whiter, and thinner, and he seemed to have shrunk within himself. + +“If police head-quarters allow this dastardly association to threaten +respectable citizens, and cannot even protect their lives, what else +is there to be done, but to pay? My friend Pindle has had a similar +threat, and he has paid. I cannot stand the strain of this any +longer.” + +He paced up and down the library floor like a man demented. + +“Mr. Froyant will pay,” said Derrick Yale slowly. “But this time I +think the Crimson Circle have been just a little too venturesome.” + +“What do you mean?” asked Parr. + +“Have you the letter, sir?” demanded Yale, and Froyant pulled open a +drawer savagely and slammed down the familiar card upon his +blotting-pad. + +“When did this arrive?” asked Parr as he took it up, noting the +Crimson Circle. + +“By this morning’s post.” + +Parr read the words inscribed in the centre: + + + “_We shall call for the money at the office of Mr. Derrick Yale at + 3.30 on Friday afternoon. The notes must not run in series. If it is + not there for us, you will die the same night._” + + +Three times the inspector read the short message, and then he sighed. + +“Well, that simplifies matters,” he said. “Of course, they will not +call----” + +“I think they will,” said Yale quietly; “but I shall be prepared for +them, and I should like you to be on hand, Mr. Parr.” + +“If there is one thing more certain than another,” said the inspector +phlegmatically, “it is that I shall be on hand. But I don’t think they +will come.” + +“There I can’t agree with you,” said Yale. “Whoever the central figure +of the Crimson Circle is, he or she does not lack courage. And, by the +way,” he lowered his voice, “you will meet an old acquaintance at my +office.” + +Parr shot a quick, suspicious glance at the detective, and saw that he +was mildly amused. + +“Drummond?” he asked. + +Yale nodded. + +“You are engaging her?” + +“She rather interests me, and I fancy that she is going to be a real +help in the solution of this mystery.” + +Froyant came in at that moment, and the conversation was tactfully +changed. + + + + + Chapter XX. + The Key of River House + +It was arranged that Froyant should draw the necessary money from +his bank on the Thursday morning to pay the demand, and that Yale +should call for it and meet Parr at the former’s office in ample time +to make the necessary preparations for the visitor’s reception. + +Mr. Parr’s way to head-quarters took him past the big house where Jack +Beardmore was living in solitude. + +The events of the past few weeks had wrought an extraordinary change +in the youth. From a boy he had suddenly become a man, with all a +man’s balance and understanding. He had inherited an enormous fortune, +but with its coming the incentive of life had, for the most part, +fallen away. He could never escape the memory of Thalia Drummond; her +face was before him, sleeping or waking, and though he called himself +a fool, and could, as he did, argue the matter to a logical +conclusion, the sum of all his reasoning faded before the image he +carried in his heart. + +Between Inspector Parr and he there had grown a curious friendship. +There was a time when he was near to hating the stout little man, but +his good sense had told him that however large a part sentiment had +played in his own life, and in the direction of his own actions, it +could have no place in a police officer’s moral equipment. + +The inspector stopped before the door of the house, and was for +passing on, but, obeying an impulse, he walked slowly up the steps and +rang the bell. The footman who admitted him was one of the dozen +servants who accentuated the emptiness of the mansion. + +Jack was in the dining-room, pretending to be interested in a late +breakfast. + +“Come in, Mr. Parr,” he said, rising. “I suppose you breakfasted hours +ago. Is there anything new?” + +“Nothing,” said Parr, “except that Mr. Froyant has decided to pay.” + +“He would,” said Jack contemptuously, and then, for the first time in +a long while, he laughed. “I shouldn’t like to be the Red or Crimson +Circle, or whatever it calls itself.” + +“Why not?” asked Mr. Parr, with a little light of amusement in his +eyes, but he could guess the answer. + +“My poor father used to say that Froyant fretted over every cent that +was taken from him and never rested until he got it back. When +Harvey’s panic is over he will go after the Crimson Circle, and will +never leave it until every bank-note he has handed to them is repaid.” + +“Very likely,” agreed the inspector, “but they aren’t holding the +money yet.” + +He told Jack the contents of the letter which Froyant had received +that morning, and his young host was visibly astonished. + +“They’re taking a big risk, aren’t they? It would be a clever man who +got the better of Derrick Yale.” + +“So I think,” said the inspector, crossing his legs comfortably. “I +must take my hat off to Yale. There are things about him that I admire +tremendously.” + +“His psychometrical powers, for example,” smiled Jack, but the +inspector shook his head. + +“I don’t know enough about those to admire them. They seem uncanny to +me, yet in a certain way I can understand them. No, I am thinking of +other of his qualities.” + +He was suddenly silent, and Jack sensed his depression. + +“You’re having a pretty bad time at head-quarters, aren’t you?” he +asked. “I don’t suppose they are particularly pleased with the +immunity of the Crimson Circle?” + +Parr nodded. + +“I’m not exactly in a bed of roses just now,” he admitted. “But that +doesn’t worry me a bit.” He looked steadily at Jack. “By the way, your +young friend is in a new job.” + +Jack started. + +“My young friend?” he stammered. “You mean Miss----” + +“Miss Drummond, I mean. Derrick Yale has engaged her,” he chuckled +softly at Jack’s astonishment. + +“Engaged Miss Thalia Drummond? You’re joking, surely?” said Jack. + +“I thought he was joking when he suggested it. He’s a queer bird, is +Yale.” + +“He ought to be at head-quarters, a lot of people think,” said Jack, +and realised that he had made a _faux pas_ before the words were out. + +But if Mr. Parr was hurt he did not show it. + +“They don’t take them in from outside,” he said with a smile, and the +inspector very rarely smiled. “Otherwise, Mr. Beardmore, we should +have taken you! No, our friend is clever. I suppose you don’t expect a +head-quarters’ man to admit that what we call a ‘fancy’ detective can +be anything but an interfering fool? But Yale is clever.” + +They had strolled together to the window, and were looking out into +the sedate street in which Jack Beardmore’s residence was situated. + +“Isn’t that Miss Drummond?” he asked suddenly. + +Parr had already seen her. She was walking slowly along the other side +of the road, looking at the numbers of the houses. Presently she +crossed. + +“She’s coming here,” gasped Jack. “I wonder what----” He did not wait +to finish what he had to say, but rushed out of the room and opened +the hall door to her whilst her finger was lingering on the bell push. + +“It is good to see you, Thalia,” he said, gripping her warmly by the +hand. “Won’t you come in? An old acquaintance of yours is in the +dining-room.” + +She raised her eyebrows. + +“Not Mr. Parr?” + +“You’re a wonderful guesser,” laughed Jack as he closed the door +behind her. “Did you want to see me alone?” he asked suddenly. + +She shook her head. + +“No; I’ve only a message for you from Mr. Yale. He wanted you to let +him have the key of your riverside house.” + +By this time they were in the dining-room, and the girl, meeting the +expressionless gaze of Mr. Parr, nodded curtly. + +“You evidently do not love my friend, Mr. Parr,” thought Jack. + +He explained the object of the girl’s visit. + +“My poor father had a derelict property by the riverside,” he said. +“It has not been tenanted for years, and the surveyors tell me it will +cost almost as much as the property is worth to put it into repair. +For some reason Yale thinks that Brabazon will use this as a +hiding-place. Brabazon had it in his hands for some time, trying to +sell it. He looked after some of my father’s property. But is he at +all likely to be there?” + +Mr. Parr pursed his large lips and blinked meditatively. + +“The only thing I know about him is that so far he has not left the +country,” he said at last. “I should not think he’d go to a house +which he must know would be searched.” He stared absently at Thalia. +“Yet he might,” he mused. “I suppose he has a key to the place. What +is it, a house?” + +“It is half house and half warehouse,” said Jack. “I have never seen +it, but I believe it is one of those dwellings which the old merchants +favoured two hundred years ago, in the days when they lived in the +places where they carried on business.” + +He unlocked his desk and pulled out a drawer full of keys, each +bearing a label. + +“This is the one, I think, Miss Drummond,” he said, handing the key to +her. “How do you like your new job?” + +It required some courage to ask the question, for he was almost +awestricken in her presence. + +She smiled faintly. + +“It is amusing,” she said, “without being in any way tempting! I +cannot tell you very much about it, because I only started this +morning.” She turned to the detective. “No, I shan’t trouble you very +much, Mr. Parr,” she said. “The only thing of value in the office is a +silver paper-weight--I don’t even have to post the letters,” she went +on mockingly. “The office is built on the American plan, and there is +a little shute in Mr. Yale’s private office that drops the letters +straight away into the box in the hall below. It is very +disappointing!” + +Solemn though she was, her eyes were dancing with merriment. + +“You’re a queer woman, Thalia Drummond,” said Parr, “and yet I’m sure +there is some good in you.” + +The remark seemed to cause her unbounded amusement. She laughed until +the tears were in her eyes, and Jack grinned sympathetically. + +Parr, on the other hand, showed no sign of amusement. + +“Be careful,” he said ominously, and the smile faded from her lips. + +“You may be sure I shall be very careful, Mr. Parr,” she said, “and if +I am in any kind of trouble, you can be equally sure that I shall send +immediately for you!” + +“I hope you will,” said Parr, “though I have my doubts.” + + + + + Chapter XXI. + River House + +Thalia went straight back to the office and found Derrick Yale +sitting in his room reading through a heap of unanswered +correspondence. + +“Is that the key? Thank you. Put it down there,” he said. “I am afraid +you will have to answer most of these yourself. The majority of them +are from foolish young people who wish to be trained as private +detectives. You will find a form reply, and you can sign the answers +yourself. And will you tell this lady,” he handed a letter across to +her, “that I am so busy now that I cannot undertake any further +commissions?” + +He took up the key from the table and held it for a second on his +hand. + +“You saw Mr. Parr?” + +She laughed. + +“You’re almost terrifying, Mr. Yale. I did see Mr. Parr, but how did +you know?” + +He shook his head smilingly. + +“It is really very simple, and I should take no credit for my gift,” +he said, “any more than you take credit for your good looks and your +predisposition to--shall I say ‘take things as you find them’?” + +She did not answer at once, then: + +“I am a reformed character.” + +“I believe you will reform in time. You interest me,” said Yale, and +then, after a pause, “immensely!” And with a jerk of his head he +dismissed her. + +She was in the midst of her work and her typewriter was clacking +furiously when he appeared at the door of his room. + +“Will you try to get Mr. Parr on the telephone?” he said. “You will +find his number on the register.” + +Mr. Parr was not in his office when she called, but half an hour later +she reached him, and switched through the wire to the next room. + +“Is that you, Parr?” + +She heard his voice through the door, which was left ajar. + +“I am going to Beardmore’s river property to make a search. I have an +idea that Brabazon may be hiding there!… After lunch; all right. Will +you be here at half-past two?” + +Thalia Drummond listened and made a shorthand note on her +blotting-pad. + +At half-past two Parr called. She did not see him, for there was a +direct entrance to Yale’s room from the corridor without, but she +heard the rumble of his voice, and presently they went out. + +She waited until their footsteps had died away, then she took a +telegraph form, and addressing it to Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, +City, she wrote: + + + “_Derrick Yale has gone to search Beardmore’s riverside house._” + + +Thalia Drummond was nothing if not dutiful. + + * * * * + +The house stood upon a little wharf, and was a picture of desolation +and neglect. The stone foundation of the wharf was in decay, the +parapet broken, the yard a wilderness of weed; rank grasses and +nettles formed almost an impenetrable barrier to their progress after +they had opened the gate which led from the mean east-end street in +which the wharfage was cited. + +The house itself might at one time have been picturesque, but now, +with its broken lower windows, its weather-stained woodwork and +discoloured walls, it was a pitiable piece of architectural wreckage. + +At one end was a big, gaunt, stone store, built flush with the wharf’s +edge, and apparently communicating with the house. An air-raid during +the war had demolished one corner of the wall, and robbed it of a few +slates which remained, leaving the skeleton of rotting roof ribs +nakedly bare to inspection. + +“A cheerful place,” said Yale, as he opened the door. “It is not the +sort of setting in which one could imagine the elegant Brabazon, is +it?” + +The passage-way was dusty. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the house +was silent and lifeless. They made a rapid tour through the rooms, +without, however, discovering any sign of the fugitive. + +“There is a garret here,” said Yale, pointing to a flight of steps +that led to a trap-door in the ceiling of the upper floor. + +He ran up the steps, pushed open the flap and disappeared. Parr heard +him walking along and presently he came down. + +“Nothing there,” he said as he slammed the trap-door in its place. + +“I never expected that you would find anything,” said Parr as he led +the way out of the house. + +They crossed the weed-grown path to the outer gate, and from a garret +window a white-faced man watched them through the dusty glass; a man +with a week’s growth of beard, whom even his most intimate friends +would never have recognised as Mr. Brabazon, the well-known banker. + + + + + Chapter XXII. + The Messenger of The Circle + +“You’re a fool, sir, and an idiot. I thought you were a clever +detective, but you’re a fool!” + +Mr. Froyant was in his most savage mood, and the neat stack of +bank-notes which stood upon his desk supplied the reason. + +The sight of so much good money going away from him was a cause of +unspeakable anguish to the miserly Harvey, and if his eyes strayed +away from that accumulation of wealth, they came back again almost +instantly. + +Derrick Yale was a difficult man to offend. + +“Perhaps I am,” he said, “but I must run my own business in my own +way, Mr. Froyant, and if I think that the girl can lead me to the +Crimson Circle--as I do think--then I shall employ her.” + +“Mark my words,” Froyant shook his fingers in the detective’s face, +“that girl is with the gang. You will discover, my friend, that _she_ +is the messenger who will call for the money!” + +“In which case she will be immediately arrested,” said the other. +“Believe me, Mr. Froyant, I have no intention of losing sight of these +notes, but if they are taken by the Crimson Circle, the responsibility +must be mine not yours. My job is to save your life, and to divert the +vengeance of the Circle from you to myself.” + +“Quite right, quite right,” said Mr. Froyant hastily, “that is the +proper way to look at it, Yale. I see that you are not as +unintelligent as I thought. Have it your own way,” he said. He +fingered the notes lovingly, and putting them into a long envelope, +handed them, with every evidence of reluctance, to the detective, who +slipped the package into his pocket. + +“I suppose there is no news of Brabazon? The rascal has robbed me of +over two thousand pounds, which I foolishly invested in one of Marl’s +rotten concerns.” + +“Did you know anything about Marl?” asked the detective, opening the +door. + +“I only know that he was a blackguard.” + +“Did you know anything that isn’t as well known?” asked Yale +patiently. “His beginnings, where he came from?” + +“He came from France, I believe,” said Froyant. “I know very little +about him. In fact, it was James Beardmore who introduced me. There +was some story about his having been concerned in land swindles in +France, and of having been imprisoned there, but I never take much +notice of gossip. He was useful to me, and I made quite a considerable +sum out of most of my investments with him.” + +The other smiled. In those circumstances, he thought, the miser might +very well forgive the erring Marl for his later losses. + +When he got back to his office he found Parr waiting, with Jack +Beardmore. + +He had not expected a visit from the younger man, and guessed that the +real attraction was Thalia Drummond, for whose absence he tactfully +apologised. + +“I’ve sent Miss Drummond home, Parr,” he said. “I don’t want a girl +mixed up in the business of this afternoon. There may be a little +rough-and-tumble work.” + +He looked keenly at Jack Beardmore. + +“For which I hope you are prepared.” + +“I shall be disappointed if there isn’t,” said Jack cheerfully. + +“What is your plan?” asked Parr. + +“I am going into my room a few minutes before the messenger is due to +arrive. I shall have both doors locked, that into the passage and that +into this outer office. In the case of this door, I will leave the key +on your side and ask you to lock me in. My object, of course, is to +prevent a surprise. As soon as you hear a knock, and hear me rise and +go to the door and unlock it, you will know that the visitor has +arrived, and when the door closes again, I want you to station +yourself outside in the corridor.” + +Parr nodded. + +“That seems simple,” he said. He walked to the window, looked out, and +waved a handkerchief, and Yale smiled approvingly. + +“I see you have taken the necessary precautions. How many men have +you?” + +“I think there are eighty,” said Mr. Parr calmly, “and they will +practically surround the place.” + +Yale nodded. + +“We have to remember,” he said, “that the Crimson Circle may send a +very ordinary district messenger, in which case, of course, he must be +followed. I am determined that the money shall pass into the hands of +the chief of the Crimson Circle himself--that is an essential.” + +“I quite agree,” said Parr, “but I have an idea that the gentleman, or +whoever he is, will not come himself. May I look at your office?” + +He walked in and inspected the room. It was lighted by one window. In +a corner was a cupboard, the door of which he opened. It was empty +save for a hanging coat. + +“If you don’t mind,” Inspector Parr was almost humble, “I want you to +stay in the outer office. Thank you, I’ll close the door on you. I get +rattled if I am overlooked.” + +Laughingly Yale walked from the office, and Mr. Parr closed the door +on him. He opened the second door, and looked out into the corridor. +Presently they heard him close that also. + +“You can come in,” he said, “I’ve seen all I want.” + +The room was simply but comfortably furnished. There was a wide +fireplace, in which, however, no fire burnt, although the day was +chilly. + +“I don’t expect him to get up the chimney,” said Yale, humorously, as +he noticed the detective’s inspection, “I never have a fire in this +office; I’m one of those hot-blooded mortals who are never really +cold.” + +Jack, a fascinated observer of the search, picked up the deadly little +pistol that lay on the detective’s table, and examined it cautiously. + +“Be careful, that trigger is a little sensitive,” said Yale. + +He took from his pockets the envelope containing the notes, and laid +them by the side of the weapon. Then he looked at his watch. + +“Now I think that to be on the safe side we should go to the other +office, and lock the door,” he said. + +He accompanied his words by locking the door into the corridor. + +“It is rather thrilling,” whispered Jack. He felt that a whisper was +the fitting tone for that exciting moment. + +“I hope it won’t be too thrilling,” said Yale. + +They went to the outer office, and turned the key on him, and sat +down--Jack unconsciously on Thalia Drummond’s chair, a fact which he +realised with a start. + +Was she of the Crimson Circle, he wondered? Parr had hinted as much. +Jack set his teeth; he could not, and would not believe even the +evidence of his own eyes, and his own common sense. So far from her +influence waning, it was gathering strength. She was a being apart, +and if she was guilty---- + +He looked up, and saw Parr’s eyes fixed upon him. + +“I don’t pretend to be psychometrical,” said the detective slowly, +“but I’ve an idea you’re thinking about Thalia Drummond.” + +“I was,” admitted the young man. “Mr. Parr, do you think she is really +as bad as she appears to be?” + +“Do you mean, do I think that she stole Froyant’s Buddha, because if +that’s what you mean, it is not a question of thinking, I am certain.” + +Jack was silent. He could never hope to convince this stolid man of +the girl’s innocence and anyway it was madness, he recognised, to +think of her as innocent when she had confessed her fault. + +“You had better keep quiet in there.” It was Yale’s voice, and Parr +grunted a reply. + +Thereafter they sat in dead silence. They heard him moving about the +room, then he too was quiet, for the hour was approaching. Inspector +Parr pulled his watch from his pocket, and laid it on the table; the +hands pointed to half-past three. It was now that the messenger was +due and he sat, his head strained forward, listening, but there was no +sound of attack. + +Presently there was a noise in Yale’s room, a queer bumping noise as +though Yale had sat down heavily. + +Parr jumped to his feet. + +“What was that?” + +“It is all right,” said Yale’s voice, “I stumbled over something. Be +quiet.” + +They sat for another five minutes, and then Parr called: + +“Are you all right, Yale?” + +There was no answer. + +“Yale!” he called more loudly. “Do you hear me?” + +There was no reply and springing to the door he snapped the lock, and +rushed into the room, Jack at his heels. + +What they saw might have paralysed even a more experienced officer +than Inspector Parr. + +Stretched upon the ground, his wrists fastened with handcuffs, his +ankles strapped, and a towel over his face lay the prostrate figure of +Derrick Yale. The window was open, and there was a strong scent of +ether and chloroform. The package of money which had lain upon the +table had disappeared. Three seconds later, an aged postman left the +hall of the building, carrying his letter-bag on his shoulder, and the +police who were watching the house, let him pass without question. + + + + + Chapter XXIII. + The Woman in the Cupboard + +Parr bent down, and snatched the saturated towel from the +detective’s face, and he opened his eyes, and stared around. + +“What is it?” he asked thickly, but the inspector was busy unscrewing +the handcuffs. Presently he threw them clanking to the floor, and +lifted the man to his feet, as Jack, with trembling fingers, unbuckled +the straps about Yale’s legs. + +They led him to his chair, and he fell heavily into its depths, +passing his hand across his forehead. + +“What happened?” he asked. + +“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Parr. “Which way did they go?” + +The other shook his head. + +“I don’t know, I can’t remember,” he said. “Is the door locked?” + +Jack ran to the door. The key was turned from the inside. He could not +have gone that way, but the window was open. That was the first thing +Parr had seen when he entered the room. + +He ran to the window, and looked out. There was a sheer fall of eighty +feet, and no sign of a ladder or of any means by which Yale’s +assailant could have escaped. + +“I don’t know what happened,” said Yale, when he had partially +recovered. “I was sitting in this chair when suddenly a cloth was +pulled across my face, and two powerful hands gripped me with a +strength which I shouldn’t have thought possible in any human being. +Before I could struggle or cry out I must have lost consciousness.” + +“Did you hear my call?” asked Parr. + +The other man shook his head. + +“But, Mr. Yale, we heard a noise and Mr. Parr asked if you were all +right. You replied that you had only stumbled.” + +“It was not me,” said Yale. “I remember nothing from the moment the +cloth was put on my face until the moment you found me here.” + +Inspector Parr was at the window. He pulled down the sash, and he +pushed it up again, and then he looked on the window-sill, and when he +turned there was a large smile on his face. + +“That is the cleverest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. + +Something of Jack’s old antipathy to the stout detective returned. + +“I don’t think it is particularly clever. They’ve half-killed Yale, +and they’ve got away,” he said. + +“I said it was clever, and it was clever,” said Mr. Parr stolidly, +“and now I think I’ll go down, and interview the officers I left on +duty in the hall.” + +But the watching officers had nothing to say. Nobody had entered or +left the building except the postman. + +“Except the postman, eh?” said Parr thoughtfully. “Why, of course, the +postman! All right, sergeant, you can dismiss your men.” + +He went up in the elevator and rejoined Yale. + +“The money’s gone all right,” he said. “I don’t know what we can do +except report the matter to head-quarters.” + +Yale was now nearly his normal self, and sat at his desk with his head +resting on his hands. + +“Well, I’m the culprit this time,” he said, “and they can’t blame you, +Parr. I’m still trying to puzzle out how they got into that window, +and how they reached me without making a sound.” + +“Was your back to the window?” + +Yale nodded. + +“I never dreamt of the window. I sat so that I could see both doors.” + +“Your back was also to the fireplace?” + +“They couldn’t have come that way,” said the other, shaking his head. +“No, this is the supreme mystery of my career; more astounding than +the identity of the Crimson Circle,” he got up slowly, “I must report +this to old man Froyant, and you had better come along and lend me +your moral support,” he said. “He will be furious.” + +They left the office together, Yale locking both doors and slipping +the key into his pocket. + +To say that Mr. Froyant was furious is to employ a very mild +expression to describe his hectic frenzy. + +“You told me, you practically promised me,” he stormed, “that the +money would come back to me, and now you have come with a +cock-and-bull story of being drugged. It is monstrous! Where were you, +Parr?” + +“I was on the premises,” said Mr. Parr, “and the story Mr. Yale has +told is correct.” + +Suddenly Froyant’s rage died down, so suddenly that the calmness of +his voice was almost startling after its previous rancour. + +“All right,” he said, “nothing can be done. The Crimson Circle have +had their money, and that is the end of it. I’m much obliged to you, +Yale. Please send your bill to me.” + +And with these brusque instructions, he sent them to rejoin Jack, who +was waiting in the street outside. + +“Well, that beats the band,” said Parr. “I thought at one time he was +going to have a fit, and then did you notice how his manner changed?” + +Yale nodded slowly. + +At the moment of Froyant’s change of manner a great idea was formed in +his mind, a tremendous and startling doubt that was almost paralysing. + +“And now,” said Parr good-humouredly, “as I have given you moral +support, perhaps you will extend the same service to me. At police +head-quarters I am not so much _persona grata_ as you. Come along and +see the Commissioner and tell him what happened.” + + * * * * * + +Derrick Yale’s office was silent and deserted. Ten minutes had passed +since the drone of the elevator announced the departure of the three +men. The silence was broken by a click, and slowly the doors in the +big cupboard in the corner of Derrick Yale’s office were pushed open +and Thalia Drummond came out. She closed the doors behind her and +stood for a while contemplating the room, deep in thought. From her +pocket she took a key, opened the door and, passing into the corridor, +locked the door behind her. + +She did not ring for the elevator. At the farther end of the passage +was a flight of narrow stairs which communicated with the caretaker’s +room, on the top floor, and which were used only by him. Down these +she went. At the bottom was a door leading into the courtyard of a +building. This, too, she unlocked and soon after had joined the throng +of homeward bound clerks that thronged the pavement at this hour. + + + + + Chapter XXIV. + £10,000 Reward + + + “The Associated Merchants Bank are authorised to offer a reward of ten + thousand pounds for information which will lead to the arrest and + conviction of the leader of what is known as the Crimson Circle Gang. + In conjunction with this reward the Secretary of State promises a free + pardon to any member of the gang, other than one actually guilty of + wilful murder, providing that the said member will furnish the + information and evidence requisite to the conviction of the man or + woman known as the Crimson Circle.” + + +On every hoarding, in every post office window, on every police +station board, the announcement flared in blood-red print. + +Derrick Yale, on his way to his office, saw the announcement and read +it and passed on, wondering what effect this would have upon the minor +members of the gang he had been engaged to hunt. + +Thalia Drummond read it from the top of a bus, when that vehicle had +pulled up close to a hoarding, to take on a passenger, and she smiled +to herself. But the most remarkable effect of the poster was upon +Harvey Froyant. It brought a colour to his face and a light to his eye +which made him almost youthful. He, too, was on his way to the office +when he read the announcement, but hurried back to his house and took +from a drawer in his study a long list. They were the numbers of the +bank-notes which the Crimson Circle had taken, and he had compiled +them laboriously, almost lovingly. + +With his own hands he now made another copy, a work that occupied him +until late in the morning. When he had finished he wrote a letter, and +enclosing the new list of notes, he addressed it, posting the letter +himself, to a firm of lawyers which he knew specialised in the tracing +of lost and stolen property. + +Heggitts’ had rendered him good service before, and the next morning +brought a representative of the firm, Mr. James Heggitt, the senior +partner, a wizened little man with a chronic sniff. + +The name of Heggitt was not one which was universally respected, nor +did lawyers, when they met, speak of it with affection or regard. And +yet it was one of the most prosperous firms of lawyers in the city. +The majority of its clients were on or over the border-line which +separates the lawful from the unlawful, but to the law-abiding also it +was very useful, and was frequently consulted by more eminent firms +whose clients wished to recover valuable goods which had been taken by +the light-fingered gentry. In some mysterious way Heggitts’ could +always place their finger upon a “gentleman” who had “heard” of the +property which was lost, and, in the majority of cases, the missing +article was restored. + +“I got your note, Mr. Froyant,” said the little lawyer, “and I can +tell you now that none of these notes are likely to go through the +usual channels.” He paused and licked his lips, looking past Mr. +Froyant. “The biggest ‘fence’ of all has gone, so I’m not doing him +any injustice when I mention the fact.” + +“Who was that?” + +“Brabazon,” was the startling reply, and the other stared at him in +astonishment. + +“You don’t mean Brabazon of Brabazon’s Bank?” + +“Yes, I do,” said Heggitt, nodding. “I should say he did a bigger +business in stolen money than any other man in London. You see, it +could pass through his bank without anybody being the wiser, and as he +did a lot of business abroad and was constantly changing and +re-changing money for export, he got away with it. We knew who was +fencing it. At least, when I say we knew,” he corrected himself, “we +had a shrewd suspicion. As officers of the court, we should, of +course, have notified the authorities had we been certain. I thought +it better to call to explain to you that it is going to be a very +difficult job to trace this money. Most stolen notes are passed on +race-courses, but quite a considerable number find their way abroad, +where it is a much simpler matter to change them, and where they are +ever so much more difficult to trace. You say it was the Crimson +Circle who did it?” + +“Do you know them?” asked Froyant quickly. + +The lawyer shook his head. + +“I have never had any dealings with them at all,” he said, “but, of +course, I knew about them, and enough to know that they are clever +people. It is likely that this man Brabazon has been doing their work, +consciously or unconsciously. In that case they might find a +difficulty in disposing of the stuff, for a bank-note ‘fence’ is one +of the hardest to find. What am I to do when I track one of these +notes and have discovered the person who passed it?” + +“I want you to notify me at once,” said Froyant, “and nobody else. You +understand that this is a matter on which my life may hang, and if by +any chance the Crimson Circle get to know that I am trying to recover +the money it will be a very serious thing for me.” + +The lawyer agreed. + +The Crimson Circle apparently interested him, for he lingered, and +skilfully plied his employer with questions without Mr. Froyant +realising that he was being pumped. + +“They are something new in criminals,” he said. “In Italy, where the +Black Hand thrives, the demand for money, followed by a threat of +death, is quite a common occurrence, but I should not have thought it +possible in this country. The most amazing thing of all is that the +Crimson Circle holds together. I should imagine,” he said +thoughtfully, “that there is only one man in it, and that he employs a +very considerable number of people unknown to one another and each +having his particular job to perform. Otherwise he would have been +betrayed a long time ago. It is only the fact that the people serving +him do not know him that makes it possible for him to carry on.” + +He took up his hat. + +“By the way, did you know Felix Marl? A client of ours is under charge +of burgling his house. Mr. Barnet. You may not have heard of him.” + +Mr. Froyant had not heard of “Flush” Barnet, but he knew Marl, and +Marl interested him almost as much as the Crimson Circle interested +the lawyer. + +“I knew Marl. Why do you ask?” + +The lawyer smiled. + +“A strange character,” he said. “A remarkable character in many ways. +He was a member of the gang engaged in frauds on French banks. I +suppose you didn’t know that? His lawyer came to see me to-day. +Apparently a Mrs. Marl has turned up to claim his property, and she +has told the whole story. He and a man named Lightman made a fortune +in France until they were caught. Marl would have been sent to the +guillotine, only he turned State’s evidence. Lightman, I believe, went +to the knife.” + +“What a charming man Mr. Marl must have been!” said Mr. Froyant +ironically. + +The little lawyer smiled. + +“What charming people we all are when our lives are laid bare!” he +said, and Mr. Froyant resented the implied censure, for it was his +boast that his life was a book. He might have added in truth a +bank-book. + +So Brabazon was a dealer in stolen notes and Marl a convicted +murderer! Mr. Froyant wondered how Marl managed to escape from his +term of imprisonment, which must have been a severe one, and he +inwardly rejoiced that his business relationships with the deceased +had not ended even more disastrously than they had. + +He dressed and went to his club to dine, and his car was running into +Pall Mall when a hoarding poster showed under the light of a lamp and +reminded him of the unpleasant fact that he was a fifty-thousand +pounds poorer man that night than he had been in the morning. + +“Ten thousand reward!” he muttered. “Bah! Who is going to turn King’s +evidence? I don’t suppose even Brabazon would dare.” + +But he did not know Brabazon. + + + + + Chapter XXV. + The Tenant of River House + +Mr. Brabazon sat in a chill upper room of River House, eating slowly +a large portion of bread and cheese. He wore the dress suit he was +wearing when the warning came to him, and he was a ludicrous figure in +the smartly-fitting, but now soiled and dusty garb. His white shirt +was grey with the grime of the house, he was collarless, and his +general air of dissipation was heightened by the stubbly beard that +decorated his face. + +He finished his repast, opened the window carefully and threw out the +remnants of bread, and passing through the trap-door, he descended the +ladder and made his way to the big kitchen at the back of the house. +He had neither soap nor towel, but he made some attempt to wash +himself without their aid, utilising one of the two handkerchiefs he +had brought with him to the house in his flight. With the exception of +the clothes he stood up in, an overcoat and the soft felt hat he had +seized when he made his escape, he was quite unequipped for this +undesirable adventure. + +The provisions which the mystery man had brought the night after he +had reached his hiding place were almost exhausted (he had spent +twenty-four hours without any food whatever, but in his agitation had +not realised the fact until the stranger arrived carrying a basket of +foodstuffs). As to his nerves, they were almost gone. A week spent in +that hovel without communion with man, with the knowledge that the +police were searching for him, and that a long term of imprisonment +would automatically follow his capture, had played havoc with his +placid features, and to the solitude had been added the terror of a +search. + +He had shrunk in a corner behind a door which opened to the inner room +leading to the garret whilst the detective had explored the room. The +memory of Derrick Yale’s visit was a nightmare. + +He settled himself down in the old chair that he had found in the +house, to spend yet another night. The man whose warning had sent him +flying to cover must come soon, and must bring more food. Brabazon was +dozing when he heard the sound of a key put into the lock below and +jumped up. He tiptoed carefully to the trap-door and lifted it and +then he heard the booming voice of the stranger. + +“Come down,” it said, and he obeyed. + +The previous interview had been in the passage where the darkness +seemed thicker than anywhere else in the house. He had accustomed +himself to the darkness and walked down the rickety stairs without +mishap. + +“Stay where you are,” said the voice. “I have brought you some food +and clothing. You will find everything you need. You had better shave +yourself and make yourself presentable.” + +“Where am I going?” asked Brabazon. + +“I have taken a berth for you on a steamer leaving Victoria Dock +to-morrow for New Zealand. You will find your passport papers and +ticket in the grip. Now listen. You are to leave your moustache, or +what there is of it unshaven, and shave your eyebrows. They are the +most conspicuous features of your face.” + +Brabazon wondered when this man had seen him. Mechanically his hand +stole up to his shaggy eyebrows and mentally he agreed with the +mysterious visitor. + +“I have not brought you any money,” the voice went on. “You have sixty +thousand which you stole from Marl--you closed his account, forging +his name to a cheque, believing that I would settle with him--as I +did.” + +“Who are you?” asked Brabazon. + +“I am the Crimson Circle,” was the reply. “Why do you ask that +question? You have met me before.” + +“Yes, of course,” Brabazon muttered. “I think this place is driving me +mad. When may I leave this house?” + +“You may leave to-morrow. Wait until nightfall. Your ship leaves on +the following morning, but you can get on board to-morrow night.” + +“But they will be watching the ship,” pleaded Brabazon. “Don’t you +think it is too dangerous?” + +“There is no danger for you,” was the reply. “Give me your money.” + +“My money?” gasped the banker, turning pale. + +“Give me your money.” There was an ominous note in the voice that +spoke in the darkness, and tremblingly Brabazon obeyed. + +Two large packets of money passed into the gloved hand of the visitor, +and then: + +“Here, take this.” + +“This” was a thinner wad of notes, and the sensitive fingers of the +banker told him that they were new. + +“You can change them when you get abroad,” said the man. + +“Couldn’t I leave to-night?” Brabazon’s teeth were chattering now. +“This place gives me the horrors.” + +The Crimson Circle was evidently thinking, for it was some time before +he spoke. + +“If you wish,” he said, “but remember you are taking a risk. Now go +upstairs.” + +The order was sharp and peremptory, and meekly Brabazon obeyed. + +He heard the door close, and peering through the dusty windows, he saw +the dark shadow stalk along the path and disappear into the darkness. +Presently he heard the gate click. The man was gone. + +Brabazon groped for the bag which the other had left and, finding it, +carried it to the kitchen. Here he could show a light without fear of +detection, and he lit one of the scraps of candle he had discovered in +his search of the house during the week. + +The stranger had not exaggerated when he said that the bag contained +all that Brabazon required. But the banker’s first thought was to +examine the money which the other had put into his hand. They were +notes of all series and all numbers. His own had been in a series, and +yet they were new. He looked at them curiously. He knew that new +bank-notes were not usually issued higgledy-piggledy, and then he +guessed the reason. The Crimson Circle had blackmailed somebody and +had asked that the notes should not be numbered consecutively. He put +the money down and began to change. + +It was a very smart Brabazon who stepped cautiously through the gates +carrying his bag an hour later, and yet so remarkable was the change +which the shaved eyebrows had made, that when, at eleven o’clock that +night, he passed one of the many detective officers who were looking +for him, he was unrecognised. + +He had engaged a room in a small hotel near Euston Station, and went +to bed. It was the first night of untroubled sleep he had enjoyed for +over a week. + +The next day he spent in his room, not caring to trust himself abroad +in daylight, but in the evening, after a solitary meal served in his +sitting-room, he went out to take the air. He was gaining in +confidence, and was now satisfied that he could pass the scrutiny of +the ship detective. He chose the less frequented streets and was +passing near the Museum when he saw a bill newly pasted on the +hoarding, and stopped to read it. + +As he read, an idea took shape. Ten thousand pounds and a free pardon! +It was by no means sure that he would escape in the morning; more +likely was it that he would be detected, and at best what would his +life be? The life of a hunted dog, for which even his money would not +compensate him. Ten thousand pounds and freedom! And nobody knew about +the money that he had tricked from Felix Marl’s estate. He would put +that in a safe deposit in the morning, go straight to police +head-quarters with information which he felt sure must lead to the +Crimson Circle’s undoing. + +“I’ll do it,” he said aloud. + +“I think you’re very wise.” + +The voice was at his elbow and he swung round. + +A little, stocky man had walked noiselessly behind him in his +rubber-soled shoes, and Brabazon recognised him instantly. + +“Inspector Parr,” he gasped. + +“That’s right,” said the inspector. “Now, Mr. Brabazon, will you come +a little walk with me, or are you going to make trouble?” + +As they went into the police-station, a woman came out, and the pallid +Brabazon failed to recognise his former clerk. He stood in the steel +pen whilst the story of his iniquities was told in the cold, official +language of the warrant. + +“You can save yourself a lot of trouble, Mr. Brabazon,” said Inspector +Parr, “by telling me the truth. I know where you are staying--at +Bright’s Hotel in the Euston Road. You arrived there late last night +and your passage is booked in the name of Thomson to New Zealand by +the _Itinga_, which is due to leave Victoria Dock to-morrow morning.” + +“Good God!” said the startled Brabazon. “How did you know that?” + +But here Inspector Parr did not inform him. + +Brabazon did not intend lying. He told everything he knew. All that +had happened from the moment he was called by telephone and told to +make a get-away, until he was arrested. + +“So you were in the house all the time?” said the inspector +thoughtfully. “How did you come to escape Mr. Yale’s search?” + +“Oh, was it Yale?” said Brabazon. “I thought it was you. There was an +inner room--just a little storehouse, I think it was in the old +times--I got behind the door and hid. He came almost to the door. I +nearly died with fright.” + +“So Yale was right again. You were there!” said the inspector speaking +half to himself. “Now, what are you going to do about it, Brabazon?” + +“I’m going to tell you all I know about the Crimson Circle, and I +think I can give you information which will lead to his arrest. But +you’ll have to be smart.” + +He was recovering something of his old pomposity, Parr observed. + +“I told you that he exchanged my notes for his, and his notes for +mine. I’m sure he did that because he was afraid of the numbers being +taken, but my notes were in a series--series E.19, and I can give you +the number of every one of them,” he went on easily. “He wouldn’t +change the stuff he got.” + +“That was Froyant’s money, I think,” said the inspector. “Yes, go on.” + +“He dare not change that, but he will change mine. Don’t you see what +a chance this gives to you?” + +The inspector was a little sceptical. Nevertheless, after Brabazon had +been locked in the cell, he called up Froyant on the ’phone and told +him as much of what had happened as was necessary for him to know. + +“You’ve got the money?” said Froyant eagerly. “Come up to the house at +once.” + +“I’ll bring it up to the house with pleasure,” replied Parr, “but I +feel I ought to warn you that this is not your money, although it is +the actual cash that was transferred by you to the Crimson Circle.” + +Later on, in Mr. Froyant’s presence, he explained the situation. That +spare man made no attempt to hide his disappointment, for he seemed to +think that in whatever circumstances the money was recovered, he was +entitled to claim. After a while Inspector Parr got him into a more +reasonable frame of mind. Froyant was talking quite calmly on the +matter, when he suddenly broke off with the question: + +“Have you the numbers of the notes which Brabazon handed to him?” + +“They are easy to remember,” said Parr, “they belong to a series,” and +he recited the numbers, Mr. Froyant making a rapid note on his +desk-pad. + + + + + Chapter XXVI. + The Bottle of Chloroform + +Thalia Drummond was writing a letter when her visitor arrived, and +of the many people whom Thalia expected to call, Millie Macroy was the +last. The girl looked ill and tired, but she was not so far from human +that she could not stand and admire the dainty drawing-room into which +Thalia showed her, her servant having gone home for the night. + +“Why this is a palace, kid,” she said, and regarded Thalia with +reluctant admiration. “You know how to do it all right, better than +poor ‘Flush.’” + +“And how is the elegant ‘Flush’?” asked Thalia coolly. + +Millie Macroy’s face darkened. + +“See here,” she said roughly, “I don’t want any kind of talk about +‘Flush’ in that tone, do you understand? He is where _you_ ought to +be. You were in it as well as him.” + +“Don’t be silly. Take off your hat and sit down. Why, it’s like old +times seeing you, Macroy.” + +The girl grumbled something under her breath, but accepted the +invitation. + +“It is about ‘Flush’ I want to see you,” she said. “There’s some talk +of framing a murder charge against him, but you know he didn’t commit +any murder.” + +“I know? Why should I know?” asked Thalia. “I didn’t even know that he +was in the house until I read the newspapers in the morning--how +wonderfully clever they are on the Press to get news so red-hot.” + +Milly Macroy had not come to discuss the enterprise of the Press. She +drove straight into her subject, which was, as Thalia had expected, +“Flush” Barnet and his immediate prospects. + +“Drummond, I’m not going to quarrel with you,” she said. + +“I’m glad of that,” said Thalia. “I can’t exactly see what there is to +quarrel about, anyway.” + +“That may or may not be,” said Miss Macroy ironically. “The point is, +what are you going to do for ‘Flush’? You know all these swells, and +you’re working for that swine Yale,” she almost hissed. “It was Yale +who put Parr up to the Marisburg Place job; Parr hadn’t got brains +enough to think it out for himself. Were you working with Yale all the +time?” + +“Don’t make me laugh,” said Thalia scornfully. “It’s certainly true I +am working for Yale, if writing his letters and tidying his desk is +work. But what swells are you talking about? And what can I do for +‘Flush’ Barnet?” + +“You can go to Inspector Parr and tell him the old, old story,” said +Macroy. “I’ve got it all worked out; you can say that ‘Flush’ was +sweet on you, saw you go into the house and followed, and couldn’t get +out.” + +“What about my young reputation?” asked the girl coolly. “No, Milly +Macroy, you’ve got to think up something prettier and, anyway, I don’t +think they’re making a charge for murder against him, from what +Derrick Yale said this morning.” + +She rose and walked slowly across the room, her hands clasped behind +her. + +“Besides, what interest have I in your young man? Why should I take +the trouble of speaking for him?” + +“I’ll tell you why.” + +Miss Macroy rose, her hands on her hips, and glared at the girl. + +“Because when the Brabazon case comes on, there’s nothing to prevent +me going into the box and saying a few plain words about what you did +in the way of quick money-getting when you were Brab’s secretary. Ah! +That’s made you jump, miss!” + +“When the Brabazon case comes on!” said the girl slowly. “Why? Have +they caught Brabazon?” + +“They pinched him to-night,” answered the girl triumphantly. “Parr did +it: I was up at the police station making inquiries about some money +that ‘Flush’ left over for me, when they brought him in.” + +“Brabazon a prisoner,” said Thalia slowly. “Poor old Brab!” + +Macroy was watching her through her half-closed lids. She had never +liked Thalia Drummond, and now she hated her. She feared her too, for +there was something sinister in her very coolness. Presently Thalia +spoke. + +“I’ll do what I can for ‘Flush’ Barnet,” she said. “Not because I’m +scared of your going into the box--that’s the part of the police court +where you’ll be least at home, Macroy--but because the poor little +wretch was innocent of the murder.” + +Miss Macroy swallowed something at this description of her lover. + +“I’ll talk to Yale in the morning. I can’t be sure it will do any +good, but I’ll get a heart-to-heart talk with him if he gives me a +chance.” + +“Thank you,” said Miss Macroy, a little more graciously, and proceeded +to admire the flat in conventional language. + +Thalia showed her from room to room. + +“What’s this place?” + +“The kitchen,” said Thalia, but made no attempt to open the door. The +girl looked at her suspiciously. + +“Have you got a friend?” she asked, and before Thalia could stop her +she had opened the door and walked in. + +The kitchen was a small one and empty. The electric light was burning, +which suggested to Miss Macroy that the girl had left the kitchen to +answer her knock. + +Thalia could have smiled at the obvious disappointment on Milly +Macroy’s face, but her inclination to amusement departed as Macroy +walked to the sink and picked up a bottle. + +“What is this?” said she, and read the label. + +It was half-filled with a colourless liquid, and Miss Macroy did not +attempt to take out the stopper. The label told her all she wanted to +know. + +“‘Chloroform and Ether,’” she read, looking at the girl. “Why have you +been using chloroform?” + +Only for a second was Thalia taken aback, and then she laughed. + +“Well, do you know, Milly Macroy,” she drawled, “when I think of poor +‘Flush’ Barnet in Brixton Gaol, I just have to sniff something to put +him out of my mind.” + +Macroy banged down the bottle on the table with a snort. + +“You’re a bad lot, Thalia Drummond, and one of these days they’ll be +waking you at eight o’clock, and ask you if you have any message for +your friends.” + +“And I shall reply,” said Thalia sweetly, “bury me next to ‘Flush’ +Barnet, the eminent crook.” + +Miss Milly Macroy did not think of a suitable retort until she was in +the Marylebone Road, and then it came to her with annoying force that, +for all her interview, Thalia Drummond had promised nothing. + + + + + Chapter XXVII. + Mr. Parr’s Mother + +Jack Beardmore had heard of Brabazon’s arrest, and went straight to +police head-quarters to see Mr. Parr. + +He found that excellent gentleman had gone home. + +“If it is important, Mr. Beardmore,” said the police clerk on duty, +“you will find him at home in his house at Stamford Avenue.” + +Beyond his natural interest in the Crimson Circle and all that +pertained thereto, Jack had no particular wish to see the inspector, +and Derrick Yale had telephoned all that was known or could be told. + +“Parr thinks this arrest may have an important development,” he said. +“No, I haven’t seen Brabazon, but I accompany Parr to-morrow morning +when he visits him.” + +Yale, too, was apparently un-get-at-able; he had hinted that he had a +theatre party that night, and Jack bent his steps homeward. He had +sent his car away, for he felt he needed exercise to dissipate his +energies, and as he crossed the gloomy park, taking a short cut to his +house, he found himself wondering what sort of a home life a man like +Parr could have. He had never spoken about his family, and his mode of +living outside of the police head-quarters was almost as much of a +mystery as that which he was trying to unravel. + +Where was Stamford Avenue, he wondered. He had reached a deserted spot +of the park, when he thought he heard footsteps behind him, and turned +his head. He was not a nervous type, and ordinarily the sound of +somebody walking in his rear would not have interested him +sufficiently to make him turn. The path here skirted a dense thicket +of rhododendrons. There was nobody in sight. Jack went on, quickening +his pace. + +He heard no more footsteps, but looking round he thought he saw a man +walking on the grass by the side of the path. As Jack stopped he too +halted. He was doubtful as to what he should do. To challenge the man +might put him into an absurd position; there was no reason in the +world why any good citizen should not walk in the park at night, or, +for the matter of that, why they should not walk behind him anywhere +at a respectable distance. + +And then ahead of him he made out a slowly strolling figure, and heard +the unmistakable “beat walk” of a policeman. + +To his own amazement he felt relieved, and when he looked round, the +figure that had followed him had disappeared. He tried to reconstruct +his impression; whoever his tracker had been, he was smally made. At +first Jack had thought it was a boy; perhaps some poor park beggar who +was mustering up courage to approach him for the price of a night’s +bed. It seemed absurd that he was glad to be out of the park, and to +step into the well-lighted street, but it was the case. + +He made an inquiry of a policeman. + +“Stamford Avenue, sir? That bus you see over there will take you, or +you can get there in a taxi in ten minutes.” + +Jack stood for a long time before he called the taxi-cab. Mr. Parr +would rightly resent this intrusion into his domestic privacy, and +really he had no excuse to offer. But making up his mind of a sudden, +he called a cab, and in a very short time was experiencing exactly the +same doubts and misgivings before the door of Inspector Parr’s +maisonette. + +It was Parr himself who opened the door. + +His face was naturally free from expression, and he neither showed +surprise nor annoyance at the arrival of his late visitor. + +“Come in, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “I have just arrived, and am having +supper. I suppose you’ve had your evening meal a long time ago.” + +“Don’t let me interrupt you, Mr. Parr, only I was rather interested to +hear that you had caught Brabazon, and I thought I’d come along.” + +The inspector was showing him into the dining-room, when suddenly he +stopped. + +“Good Lord!” he said. + +Jack could only wonder what had startled him. + +“Do you mind waiting here?” + +For the first time since Jack had known the police officer, Parr was +embarrassed. + +“I must first tell an old aunt of mine who is staying here who you +are,” he said. “She’s not used to visitors. I’m a widower, you know, +and my aunt keeps house for me.” + +He entered the dining-room hurriedly, closing the door behind him, and +Jack felt something of his host’s embarrassment. + +A minute, two minutes passed. He heard a hurried movement in the room, +and Parr opened the door. + +“Come in, sir.” His red face was even a deeper red. “Sit you down, and +please forgive me for keeping you waiting.” + +The room in which he found himself was well and tastefully furnished. +Jack was annoyed with himself for expecting anything else. + +Mr. Parr’s aunt was a faded lady with an absent manner, and she seemed +to cause Mr. Parr a considerable amount of anxiety. He scarcely took +his eyes from her as she moved about the room, and she hardly spoke +before he jumped in to interrupt her, always politely, but always very +definitely. + +The inspector’s supper was set upon a tray; he had just about finished +when Jack had knocked at the door. + +“I hope you’ll excuse our untidiness, Mr.--er----” + +“Beardmore,” said Jack. + +“She’ll never remember it,” murmured the inspector. + +“I can’t keep the place as mother kept it,” she said. + +“Of course not, of course not, auntie,” said Mr. Parr hurriedly. “A +little absent,” he murmured. “Now what did you want to know, Mr. +Beardmore?” + +Jack laughingly excused himself for his call. + +“The Crimson Circle is such a complicated business that I suspect +every new agent to be the central figure,” he said. “Do you think that +the arrest of Brabazon is going to help us?” + +“I don’t know,” replied Parr slowly. “There is just a chance that +Brabazon will be a very big help indeed. By the way, I’ve put one of +my own men to look after him, and I have given instructions that the +jailer is not to go into the cell under any circumstances.” + +“You’re thinking of Sibly, the sailor, who was poisoned?” + +Parr nodded. + +“Don’t you think, Mr. Beardmore, that that was one of the greatest +mysteries of all the mysterious Crimson Circle murders?” + +He asked this question very soberly, but there was a little glint in +his eye which Jack did not fail to notice. + +“You’re laughing. Why? I think it was mysterious, don’t you?” + +“Very,” said the inspector. “In some respects, and the poisoning of +Sibly will, to my mind, be a much more important factor in the +eventual capture of the Crimson Circle than is the arrest of our +friend Brabazon.” + +“I wish you wouldn’t talk about crime and criminals,” said his aunt +fretfully; “really, John, you are very trying. It may have suited +mother----” + +“Yes, of course, auntie; I’m sorry,” said Parr hurriedly, and when she +had left the room, Jack Beardmore’s curiosity got the better of his +discretion. + +“Mother seems to have been rather a paragon,” he smiled, and wondered +if he had made a _faux pas_. + +The answering laugh reassured him. + +“Yes, rather a paragon; she is not staying with us just now.” + +“Is she your mother, Mr. Parr?” + +“No, my grandmother,” said Mr. Parr, and Jack looked at him in +astonishment. + + + + + Chapter XXVIII. + A Shot in the Night + +The inspector must have been nearly fifty, and he made a rapid +calculation as to the age of this wonderful grandmother who took an +interest in crime, and kept the house tidy. + +“She must be a wonderful old lady,” he said, “and I suppose she’d even +be interested in the Crimson Circle.” + +“Interested!” Mr. Parr laughed. “If mother was on the track of that +gang with the same authority as I have, they would be high and dry in +Cannon Street police station to-night. As it is,” he paused, “they are +not.” + +All the time they were talking Jack was puzzling his head as to why, +in spite of its order, the room gave him an impression of untidiness. +But he was not left to his own thoughts for very long, for Mr. Parr +was in an unusually communicative mood. He even went so far as to tell +Jack some of the unpleasant things said to him by the Commissioner. + +“Naturally police head-quarters are rather rattled by the continuance +of these crimes,” he said. “We haven’t had anything like this for +fifty years. In fact, I don’t think since the Ripper murders there has +been such an orgy of destruction. It may interest you, too, Mr. +Beardmore, to know that the Crimson Circle, whoever he is, is the +first real organising criminal we have had to deal with for nearly +fifty years. Criminal organisations are loose affairs, and as they +depend for their safety upon that sense of honour which every thief is +supposed to possess, but which I have never met with, the game doesn’t +last very long. The Crimson Circle, however, is a man who obviously +trusts nobody. He cannot be betrayed because nobody is in a position +to betray him. Even the minor members of the gang cannot betray one +another, because it is just as clear to me that they do not know one +another by name or by sight.” + +He went on to discuss interestingly cases in which he had been +concerned, and it was nearly half-past eleven when Jack rose with a +further apology. + +“I’ll take you to the front door; your car is here, isn’t it?” + +“No,” said Jack. “I came by taxi.” + +“H’m,” said the inspector. “I thought I saw a car drawn up in front of +the door. We are not a motor-car owning neighbourhood; probably it is +a doctor’s machine.” + +He opened the door, and, as he had said, a black car was drawn up at +the kerb. + +“I seem to have seen that before,” said the inspector, and took a step +forward. As he did so a pencil of flame leapt from the dark interior +of the car; there was a deafening report, and Inspector Parr fell into +Jack’s arms and slid to the ground. A second later and the car was +speeding up the street; it showed no light and vanished round the +corner as the doors in the street began to open and to let out the +alarmed residents. + +A policeman came running along the pavement, and together they lifted +the detective and carried him into the dining-room. Happily the aunt +had gone to bed, and had apparently heard and noticed nothing. + +Inspector Parr opened his eyes and blinked. + +“That was a nasty one,” he said with a wince of pain. He felt gingerly +in his waistcoat and brought out a flat piece of lead. “I’m glad he +didn’t use an automatic,” he said, and then, seeing the blank +amazement on Jack’s face, he grinned. + +“The Crimson Circle gentleman is only one of three who wear a +bullet-proof waistcoat,” he said. “I am the second, and--” he paused, +“Thalia Drummond is the third, as I happen to know.” + +He did not speak again for some time, and then he said to Jack: + +“Will you telephone to Derrick Yale? I think he is going to be +considerably startled.” + +The prophecy understated the case. + +Derrick Yale arrived half an hour after the shooting in such haste +that his appearance suggested that he had dressed over his pyjama +suit. He listened to Parr’s story, and then: + +“I don’t want to be uncomplimentary, inspector,” he laughed, “but +you’re the last person in the world I should have thought they would +have wanted to shoot.” + +“Thank you,” said Parr, who was gingerly fixing a lint pad over his +bruised chest. + +“I don’t mean that as uncomplimentary; I merely mean that such a +definite challenge to the police is the last thing in the world I +expected them to deliver.” He frowned heavily. “I don’t understand +it,” he said as though speaking to himself. “I wonder why she wanted +to know. I’m talking about Thalia Drummond. She asked me this morning +what was your address,” he said. “I understand your name is not even +in the telephone book or in the local directory.” + +“What did you say?” + +“I gave her some evasive answer, but I’ve just remembered that my +private address book is accessible, and she could easily have +discovered it without troubling to ask me. I wonder she didn’t.” + +Jack gave a weary sigh. + +“Really, Yale, you’re not suggesting that Miss Drummond fired that +shot, are you? Because, if you are, it’s a ridiculous suggestion. Oh, +I know what you’re going to say: she’s a bad lot and has been guilty +of all sorts of miserable little crimes, but that doesn’t make her a +murderess!” + +“You’re quite right,” replied Yale after a pause. “I’m being unjust to +the girl, and it doesn’t seem that I’m starting fair if I am sincere +in my desire to give her a chance. I wanted to see you to-night, by +the way, Parr.” He took from his pocket a card and laid it on the +table before the inspector. “How does that strike you for nerve?” + +“When did you get it?” + +“It was waiting in the letter-box for me, but I didn’t see it, +curiously enough, until I was rushing out to find a taxi to bring me +here. Isn’t it colossal?” + +The card bore a symbol familiar enough to the two men, but at the very +sight of that Crimson Circle, Jack shuddered. Within the hoop was +written: + + + “_You are serving the losing side. Serve us instead and you shall be + rewarded tenfold. Continue your present work, and you die on the + fourth of next month._” + + +“That gives you about ten days,” said Parr seriously, and it might +have been the pain he had suffered, or excitement, but he seemed +suddenly to lose his colour. “Ten days,” he muttered. + +“Of course, I take not the slightest notice of that threat,” said +Derrick Yale cheerfully. “I must confess that after my unpleasant +experience at the office I almost credit them with supernatural +gifts.” + +“Ten days,” repeated the detective. “Have you made any plans? +Ordinarily, where would you be on the fourth of next month?” + +“It is curious that you should ask that,” said Yale, “but I had +arranged to go down to Deal for some fishing. A friend of mine has +lent me a motor-launch, and I thought of spending the night in the +Channel; in fact, I had arranged to go on that day.” + +“You can make what arrangements you like, but you are not going +alone,” said Parr emphatically. “And now you can all clear out. Thank +your lucky stars that my aunt has not wakened, and that mother isn’t +here!” + +The last he said was intended for Jack, and Jack smiled +understandingly. + + + + + Chapter XXIX. + “The Red Circle” + +It was Harvey Froyant’s boast that he trusted nobody completely. He +trusted the lawyer up to a point, but his known connection with +questionable people would have been alone sufficient to prevent Harvey +from trusting implicitly to his agent. + +Two nights after the shooting of Inspector Parr the little lawyer +called on his employer, and he was all a-quiver with excitement. He +had traced one of the new series of bank-notes which the Crimson +Circle had taken from Brabazon. + +“Now, we’ve got a good line on this, Mr. Froyant, and if we continue +in the direction we are going, we can certainly pick up the original +changer.” + +But here Mr. Harvey Froyant was firm. He could not and would not place +the case completely in the hands of this man. So far might the +knowledgeable firm of Heggitt take him, but he would carry on the rest +through another agency. He said so in as many words. + +“I’m sorry you won’t let me go on with it,” said the disappointed +Heggitt. “I have undertaken this search personally, and I can assure +you that there are only a few steps now between the man we discovered +with the money and the man you are looking for.” + +Harvey Froyant knew that as well as the lawyer. + +Jack Beardmore had spoken a great truth when he said that this mean +man would never be satisfied until he had recovered the money he had +lost. It was a goad and an irritation, a source of thought which kept +him awake at night and woke him in the morning with a sense of blank +despair. + +And Harvey was well equipped to carry the investigations to their +final stage now that he had the ground clear for him. He had derived +his fortune from buying and selling land in every country in the +world. Beginning with practically no capital, he had, by personal +application to his business, built up a seven figure fortune. And this +had not been accomplished by sitting in an office and trusting to +subordinates. It had involved considerable travel, restless inquiry +and relentless probing into the private circumstances of negotiators, +a peculiarity he had shared with James Beardmore, though this he did +not know. + +He took up his own case with alacrity, and informed neither Yale nor +Parr of his intentions. + +As Heggitt had said, it was a fairly simple matter to trace the note, +for at least three stages. His investigations brought Mr. Froyant +successively to a money-changer’s in the Strand, a tourist office and +finally to a highly respectable bank. And here he was particularly +favoured, for it was a branch of one of the banks which conducted his +business. + +For three days he pried and questioned, searched books--which he had +no right to search--and slowly but surely he came to a conclusion. He +was not, however, satisfied to leave the matter with the discovery of +the original passer of the note. Not even the bank manager, who gave +him facilities for examining private accounts, and was afterwards +reprimanded by his superiors for doing so, knew exactly what object he +had, or against whom his investigations were directed. + +On the morning of the first day Froyant left hurriedly for France. He +spent only two hours in Paris, and the night found him on his way to +the south. Toulouse he reached at nine o’clock in the morning; here +again luck was with him, for an important official of the city had +been an agent of his in a purchase he had made a few years before. + +Monsieur Brassard offered his guest an emphatic welcome, which Mr. +Froyant discounted on the ground that his former agent was under the +impression that a new deal and a new commission was in prospect. This +seemed to be the case, for he was less enthusiastic when he learnt the +object of the visit. + +“I do not trouble myself with these matters,” he said, shaking his +head, “for although I am a lawyer, my dear Mr. Froyant, my practice +does not touch the criminal court.” He stroked his long beard +thoughtfully. “I remember Marl very well indeed--Marl and another man, +an Englishman, I think.” + +“A man named Lightman?” + +“Yes, that was the fellow. Good gracious, yes!” He made a grimace of +disgust. “Of course, that is common history,” he went on. “They were +scoundrels, those men. One shot the cashier and the watchman of the +Nimes Bank, and there were two murders here in Toulouse with which +their names were associated. I remember their names very well--and the +terrible incident!” He shook his head. + +“What terrible incident?” asked Mr. Froyant curiously. + +“It was when Lightman was led to execution. I think our executioners +must have been drunk, for the knife did not work; twice, three times +it fell, but only just touched his neck. And when the horrified +spectators interfered--you know our French people are very +emotional--there would have been a riot if they had not taken the +prisoner back to gaol. Yes, the Red Circle escaped the knife.” + +Mr. Froyant, who was sipping a cup of coffee, leapt to his feet, +overturning the cup and its contents. + +“The what?” he almost shouted. + +Mr. Brassard looked at him open-mouthed. + +“Why, what is wrong, m’sieur?” he asked, one eye on the damaged +carpet. + +“The Red Circle! What do you mean?” demanded Froyant, trembling with +excitement. + +“That was Lightman,” nodded Brassard, astonished at the effect his +words produced. “It was his public name. But my clerk will know more, +for he was interested in the matter, which I was not.” + +He rang the bell, and an elderly Frenchman came in. + +“Do you remember the Red Circle, Jules?” + +The aged Jules nodded. + +“Very well, m’sieur. I was at the execution. What horror!” He raised +his two hands in an expressive gesture. + +“Why was he called the Red Circle?” demanded Froyant. + +“Because of a mark.” The man drew his long finger about his neck. +“Around his throat, m’sieur, was a red circle; it was the colour of +his skin, and it was a legend long before the execution that no knife +would ever touch him, for such marks are said to be charmed. I think +it was a birth-mark, but I know that on the way to the execution I met +a great number of people--my friend Thiep, for example--who were sure +that the execution would not take place. If they were as sure that the +executioner and his assistants would be drunk,” added Jules, “and that +they had put up the guillotine in the morning so badly that the knife +would not work, I think they would have been more intelligent.” + +Mr. Froyant was now breathing quickly. + +Little by little the truth was being revealed, and now he saw the +whole thing clearly. + +“What happened to the Red Circle?” he asked. + +“I do not know,” shrugged Jules. “He was sent to one of the island +settlements, but Marl was released because he had given evidence for +the Republic. I heard some time ago that Lightman had escaped, but I +don’t know how true that is.” + +Lightman had escaped, as Froyant had already guessed. He passed that +day in a feverish search of all available documents, in a visit to the +Public Prosecutor, and he ended a strenuous twelve hours in the bureau +of the prison governor, examining photographs. + +It may be said that Mr. Harvey Froyant went to bed that night in the +Hotel Anglaise with a feeling of complete satisfaction, and with the +added pleasure that he had succeeded where the cleverest police had +failed. The secret of the Crimson Circle was no longer a secret. + + + + + Chapter XXX. + The Silencing of Froyant + +Harvey Froyant’s visit to France had not escaped attention, and both +Derrick Yale and Inspector Parr knew that he had gone; so also did the +Crimson Circle, if Thalia Drummond’s telegram reached its destination. + +Curiously enough these telegrams and messages which Thalia was sending +was the excuse for Derrick Yale’s call at police head-quarters, on the +very evening that Mr. Froyant was returning triumphantly from France. + +Parr, returning to his office, found Yale sitting at the inspector’s +table, delighting a small but select audience of police officials with +an exhibition of his curious power. + +His ability in this direction was amazing. From a ring which a police +inspector handed him he told the mystified hearer not only his known +history but, to his confusion, a little secret history of the man’s +life. + +As Parr came in his assistant gave him a sealed envelope. He glanced +at the typewritten address, and then laid it on Yale’s outstretched +hand. + +“Tell me who sent that?” he said, and Yale laughed. + +“A very small man with an absurd yellow beard; he talks through his +nose and keeps a shop.” + +A slow smile dawned on Parr’s face. + +Yale added: + +“And that isn’t psychometry, because I happen to know it is from Mr. +Johnson of Mildred Street.” + +He chuckled at the inspector’s blank expression, and when they were +alone, explained. + +“I happen to know that you discovered the place to which all the +Crimson Circle messages were sent. I, on the contrary, have known of +its existence for a long time, and every message which has been sent +to the Crimson Circle has been read by me. Mr. Johnson told me you +were making inquiries, and I asked him to give you a very full +explanation in the addressed envelope which you sent to him.” + +“So you knew it all the time?” asked Parr slowly. + +Derrick Yale nodded. + +“I know that messages intended for the Crimson Circle have been +addressed to this little newsagent, and that every afternoon and +evening a small boy calls to collect them. It is a humiliating +confession to make, but I have never been able to trace the person who +picks the boy’s pocket.” + +“Picks his pocket?” repeated Parr, and Yale enjoyed the mystery. + +“The boy’s instructions are to put the letters in his pocket, and to +walk into the crowded High Street. Whilst he is there somebody takes +them from his pocket without his being any the wiser.” + +Inspector Parr sat down on the chair which Yale had vacated, and +rubbed his chin. + +“You’re an amazing fellow,” he said. “And what else have you +discovered?” + +“What I have all along suspected,” said Yale, “that Thalia Drummond is +in communication with the Crimson Circle and has given him every scrap +of information which she has been able to gather.” + +Parr shook his head. + +“What are you going to do about that?” + +“I told you all along that she would lead us to the Crimson Circle,” +said Yale quietly, “and sooner or later I am sure my predictions will +be justified. It is nearly two months since I induced our friend who +keeps a small newsagent’s shop to which letters may be addressed, to +give me the first look over all letters addressed to Johnson. He +wanted a little inducing, because our newsagent is a very honest, +straightforward man, but it is my experience, and probably yours, that +the mere suggestion that a man is assisting the cause of justice will +induce him to commit the most outrageous acts of disloyalty. I took +the liberty of suggesting, without stating, that I was a regular +police officer; I hope you don’t mind.” + +“There are times when I think you should be a regular police officer,” +said Parr. “So Thalia Drummond is in communication with the Crimson +Circle?” + +“I shall continue to employ her, of course,” said Yale. “The closer +she is to me, the less dangerous she will be.” + +“Why did Froyant go abroad?” asked Parr. + +The other shrugged his shoulders. + +“He has many business connections abroad, and probably is engaged in a +deal. He owns about a third of the vineyards in the Champagne. I +suppose you know that?” + +The inspector nodded. Then, for some reason or other, a silence fell +upon them. Each man was busy with his own thoughts, and Mr. Parr +particularly was thinking of Froyant, and wondering why he had gone to +Toulouse. + +“How did you know he had gone to Toulouse?” asked Derrick Yale. + +The question was so unexpected, such a startling continuation of his +own thoughts, that Parr jumped. + +“Good heavens!” he said, “can you read a man’s mind?” + +“Sometimes,” said Yale, unsmilingly. “I thought he had gone to Paris.” + +“He went to Toulouse,” said the inspector shortly, and did not explain +how he came to know. + +Possibly nothing Derrick Yale had ever done, no demonstration he had +given of his gifts, had so disconcerted this placid inspector of +police as that experiment in thought transference. It alarmed, indeed, +frightened him, and he was still shaken in his mind when Harvey +Froyant’s telephone call came through. + +“Is that you, Parr? I want you to come to my house. Bring Yale with +you. I have a very important communication to make.” + +Inspector Parr hung up the receiver deliberately. + +“Now, what the devil does he know?” he said, speaking to himself, and +Derrick Yale’s keen eyes, which had not left the inspector’s face all +the time he was speaking, shone for a moment with a strange light. + + * * * * + +Thalia Drummond had finished her simple dinner and was engaged in the +domestic task of darning a stocking. Her undomestic task, which was of +greater urgency, was to prevent herself thinking of Jack Beardmore. +There were times when the thought of him was an acute agony, and since +such moments of quietness and solitude as these were favourable for +such meditation, she had just put down her work and turned to +something new for distraction, when the door bell rang. + +It was a district messenger, and he carried in his hand a square +parcel that looked like a boot box. + +It was addressed to her in pen-printed characters, and she had a +little flutter at her heart as she realised from whom it had come. + +Back in her room she cut the string and opened the box. On the top lay +a letter which she read. It was from the Crimson Circle, and ran: + + + “_You know the way into Froyant’s house. There is an entrance from the + garden into the bomb-proof shelter beneath his study. Gain admission, + taking with you the contents of this box. Wait in the underground room + until I give you further instructions._” + + +She lifted out the contents of the box. The first article was a large +gauntlet glove that reached almost to her elbow. It was a man’s glove, +and left-handed. The only other thing in the box was a long, +sharp-pointed knife with a cup-like guard. She handled it carefully, +feeling the edge; it was as sharp as a razor. For a long time she sat +looking at the weapon and the glove, and then she got up and went to +the telephone and gave a number. She waited for a long time, until the +operator told her there was no answer. + +At nine o’clock. + +She looked at her watch. It was past eight already, and she had no +time to lose. She put the glove and the knife in a big leather +hand-bag, wrapped herself in her cloak, and went out. + +Half an hour later, Derrick Yale and Mr. Parr ascended the steps of +Froyant’s residence and were admitted by a servant. The first thing +Derrick Yale noticed was that the passage was brilliantly illuminated; +all the lights in the hall were on, and even the lamps on the landing +above were in full blaze, a curious circumstance, remembering Mr. +Harvey Froyant’s parsimony. Usually he contented himself with one +feeble light in the hall, and any room in the house that was not in +use was in darkness. + +The library was a room opening from the main hall; the door was wide +open, and the visitors saw that the room was as brilliantly lighted as +the hall. + +Harvey Froyant was sitting at his desk, a smile on his tired face, but +for all his weariness there was self-satisfaction in every gesture, +every note in his voice. + +“Well, gentlemen,” he said almost jovially, “I’m going to give you a +little information which I think will startle and amuse you.” He +chuckled and rubbed his hands. “I have just called up the Chief +Commissioner, Parr,” he said, peering up at the stout detective. “In a +case like this one wants to be on the safe side. Anything may happen +to you two gentlemen after you leave this house, and we cannot have +too many people in our secret. Will you take your overcoats off? I am +going to tell you a story which may take some time.” + +At that moment the telephone bell trilled, and they stood watching him +as he took down the receiver. + +“Yes, yes, colonel,” he said. “I have a very important communication +to make; may I call you up in a second or two? You will be there? +Good.” He replaced the instrument. They saw him frown undecidedly, and +then: + +“I think I’ll talk to the colonel now, if you don’t mind stepping into +another room and closing the door. I don’t want to anticipate the +little sensation which I am creating.” + +“Certainly,” said Parr, and walked from the room. + +Derrick Yale hesitated. + +“Is this communication about the Crimson Circle?” + +“I will tell you,” said Mr. Froyant. “Just give me five minutes and +then you shall have your thrill of sensation.” + +Derrick Yale laughed, and Parr, who had reached the hall, smiled in +sympathy. + +“It takes a lot to thrill me,” said Derrick. + +He came out of the room, stood for a moment with the door edge in his +hand. + +“And afterwards I think I shall be able to tell you something about +our young friend Drummond,” he said. “Oh, I know you’re not +interested, but this little fact will interest you perhaps as much as +the story you are going to tell us.” + +Parr saw him smile, and guessed that Froyant had growled something +uncomplimentary about Thalia Drummond. + +Derrick Yale closed the door softly. + +“I wonder what his sensation is, Parr,” he mused thoughtfully. “And +what the dickens has he to tell your colonel?” + +They walked into the front drawing-room, which was equally well +lighted. + +“This is unusual, isn’t it, Steere?” said Derrick Yale, who knew the +butler. + +“Yes, sir,” said the stately man. “Mr. Froyant is not as a rule +extravagant in the matter of current. But he told me that he’d want +all the lights to-night, and that he was not taking any risks, +whatever that might mean. I’ve never known him to do such a thing. +He’s got two loaded revolvers in his pocket--that is what strikes me +as queer. He hates firearms, does Mr. Froyant, as a rule.” + +“How do you know he has revolvers?” asked Parr sharply. + +“Because I loaded them for him,” replied the butler. “I used to be in +the Yeomanry, and I understand the use of weapons. One of them is +mine.” + +Derrick Yale whistled and looked at the inspector. + +“It looks as if he not only knows the Crimson Circle, but he expects a +visit,” he said. “By the way, have you any men on hand?” + +Parr nodded. + +“There are a couple of detectives in the street; I told them to hang +around in case they were wanted,” he said. + +They could not hear Froyant’s voice at the telephone, for the house +was solidly built, and the walls were thick. + +Half an hour passed, and Yale grew impatient. + +“Will you ask him if he wants us, Steere?” he said, but the butler +shook his head. + +“I can’t interrupt him, sir. Perhaps one of you gentlemen would go in. +We never go in unless we are rung for.” + +Parr was half-way out of the room, and in an instant had flung open +the door of Harvey Froyant’s study. The lights were blazing, and he +had no doubt of what had happened from the second his eyes fell upon +the figure huddled back in his chair. Harvey Froyant was dead. The +handle of a knife projected from his left breast, a knife with a steel +cup-like guard. On the narrow desk was a blood-stained leather +gauntlet. + +It was the startled cry of Parr that brought Derrick Yale rushing into +the room. Parr’s face was as white as death as he stared at the tragic +figure in the chair, and neither man spoke a word. + +Then Parr spoke. + +“Call my men in,” he said. “Nobody is to leave this house. Tell the +butler to assemble the servants in the kitchen and to keep them +there.” + +He took in every detail of the room. Across the big windows which +looked on to a square of green at the back of the house, heavy velvet +curtains were drawn. He pulled them aside. Behind these were shutters +and they were securely fastened. + +How had Harvey Froyant been killed? + +His desk was opposite the fire-place, and the desk was a narrow +Jacobean affair which would have distracted any ordinary man by its +lack of width, but it was a favourite of the dead financier. + +From which way had the murderer approached him? From behind? The knife +was thrust in a downward direction, and the theory that his assailant +came upon him unawares was at least plausible. But why the glove? +Inspector Parr handled it gingerly. It was a leather gauntlet, such as +a chauffeur uses, and had been well worn. + +His next move was to call the Police Commissioner and, as he had +suspected, the colonel was waiting for a communication from Harvey +Froyant. + +“Then he did not telephone to you?” + +“No. What has happened?” + +Parr told him briefly, and listened unmoved to the almost incoherent +fury of his chief at the other end of the wire. Presently he hung up +the receiver and went back to the hall, to find his men already +posted. + +“I am searching every room in the house,” he said. + +He was gone half an hour, and returned to Derrick Yale. + +“Well?” asked Yale eagerly. + +Parr shook his head. + +“Nothing,” he said. “There is nobody here who has no right to be +here.” + +“How did they get into the room? The hall-way was never empty except +when Steere came into the drawing-room.” + +“There may be a trap in the floor,” suggested Yale. + +“There are no traps in drawing-room floors in the West End of London,” +snapped Parr, but a further search had a surprising result. + +Turning up one corner of the carpet, a small trap-door was discovered, +and the butler explained that in the days of the war, when air raids +were a nightly occurrence, Mr. Froyant had had a bomb-proof shelter +constructed of concrete in a lower wine cellar, ingress to which was +gained by means of a flight of stairs leading from his study. + +Parr went down the stairs with a lighted candle and discovered himself +in a small, square, cell-like room. There was a door, which was +locked, but, searching the body of Harvey Froyant, they found a master +key. Beyond the first door was a second of steel and this brought them +into the open. + +The houses in the street shared a common strip of lawn and shrubbery. + +“It is quite possible to get into here through the gate at the end of +the garden,” said Yale, “and I should say that the murderer came this +way.” + +He was flashing his electric lamp along the ground. Suddenly he went +down on to the ground and peered. + +“Here is a recent footprint,” he said, “and a woman’s!” + +Parr looked over his shoulder. + +“I don’t think there is any doubt about that,” he said. “It is +recent.” + +And then suddenly he stepped back. + +“My God!” he gasped in awe-stricken tones. “What a devilish plot!” + +For it came upon him with a rush that this was the footprint of Thalia +Drummond. + + + + + Chapter XXXI. + Thalia Answers a Few Questions + +Derrick Yale sat with his head on his hands, reading a newspaper. He +had read a dozen that morning, and one by one he had cast them aside +to open another. + +“Under the eyes of the police,” he quoted. “Incompetence at Police +Head-quarters.” He shook his head. “They are giving our poor friend +Parr a bad time in this morning’s press,” he said as he threw the +paper aside, “and yet he was as incapable of preventing that crime as +you or I, Miss Drummond.” + +Thalia Drummond looked a little peaked that morning. There were dark +circles about her eyes, and an air of general listlessness which was +in contrast to her usual cheerful buoyancy. + +“If you’re in that game you expect to get kicks, don’t you?” she asked +coolly. “The police can’t have it all their own way.” + +He looked at her curiously. + +“You aren’t a particular admirer of police methods, are you, Miss +Drummond?” he asked. + +“Not tremendously,” she replied, as she laid a stack of correspondence +before him. “You aren’t expecting me to get up testimonials to the +efficiency of head-quarters, are you?” + +He laughed quietly. + +“You’re a strange girl,” he said. “Sometimes I think that you were +born without compassion. And you worked for Froyant, too, didn’t you?” + +“Yes,” she said shortly. + +“You lived some time in the house?” + +She did not reply, but her grey eyes met his steadily. + +“I did live some time in the house,” she admitted. “Why do you ask +that?” + +“I wondered if you knew of the existence of this underground room?” +said Derrick Yale carelessly. + +“Of course I knew of the room. Poor Mr. Froyant made no secret of his +cleverness. He has told me a dozen times how much it cost,” she added +with a faint smile. + +He cogitated a moment. + +“Where were the keys usually kept that opened the door of the +bomb-proof room?” + +“In Mr. Froyant’s desk. Are you suggesting that I have had access to +them, or that I was concerned in last night’s murder?” + +He laughed. + +“I am not suggesting anything,” he said. “I am merely inquiring, and +as you seem to know a great deal more about the house than most of the +people who live in it, my curiosity is natural. Would it be possible, +do you think, to push up that trap without making a noise?” + +“Quite,” she said. “The trap-door works on counter-balances. Are you +going to answer any of those letters?” + +He pushed the pile of letters aside. + +“What were you doing last night, Miss Drummond?” + +This time his method was more direct. + +“I spent my evening at home,” she said. Her hands went behind her, and +that curious rigidity which he had noticed before stiffened her frame. + +“Did you spend the whole of the evening at home?” + +She did not answer. + +“Isn’t it a fact that about half-past eight you went out, carrying a +small parcel?” + +Again she made no reply. + +“One of my men accidentally saw you,” said Derrick Yale carelessly, +“and then lost sight of you. Where did you spend the evening--you did +not return to your flat until nearly eleven o’clock at night.” + +“I went for a walk,” said Thalia Drummond coolly. “If you will give me +a map of London, I will endeavour to retrace my footsteps.” + +“Suppose some of them have already been traced?” + +Her eyes narrowed. + +“In that case,” she said quietly, “I am saved the bother of telling +you where I went.” + +“Now look here, Miss Drummond,” he leant across the table. “I am +perfectly sure that you are not, in your heart of hearts, a murderess. +That word makes you wince, and it is an ugly one. But there are +suspicious circumstances which I have not yet revealed to Parr about +your movements last night.” + +“Being under suspicion is a normal condition with me,” she said, “and +since you know so much, it is quite unnecessary for me to tell you +more.” + +He looked at her, but she returned his gaze without faltering, and +then with a shrug of his shoulders, he said: + +“Really, I don’t think it matters where you were.” + +“I’m almost inclined to agree with you,” she mocked him, and went back +to her office and her typewriter. + +“An amazing personality,” thought Derrick Yale. + +Women did not ordinarily interest him, but Thalia Drummond was beyond +and outside of the general run. Her beauty had no appeal for him; he +knew she was pretty, just as he knew his office door was painted brown +and that the colour of a penny stamp was red. + +He took up the paper again and re-read some of the comments upon the +inefficiency of police head-quarters, and soon after, as he had +expected, Parr came into the room with a certain briskness and dropped +into a chair. + +“The Commissioner has asked for my resignation,” he said, and to the +other’s surprise, his voice was almost cheerful. “I’m not worrying. I +intended to retire three years ago when my brother left me his money.” + +This was the first intimation Derrick Yale had received that Inspector +Parr was a comparatively rich man. + +“What are you going to do?” he asked, and Parr smiled. + +“In Government offices when you are asked to resign, you resign,” he +said drily. “But my resignation will not take effect until the end of +next month. I must wait and see what happens to you, my friend.” + +“To me?” said Derrick in surprise. “Oh, you mean the warning that I am +to be polished off on the fourth? Let me see, there are only two or +three days of life left for me,” he laughed ironically as he glanced +at the calendar. “I don’t think you need wait for that. But, joking +apart, why resign at all? Do you think if I saw the Commissioner----” + +“He’d take much less notice of you than he would of a row of beans if +they started articulating,” said Mr. Parr. “As a matter of fact, he +isn’t taking me off the case until my resignation comes into effect, +and I have you to thank for that.” + +“Me?” + +The stout inspector was laughing silently. + +“I told him that your life was so precious to the country that it was +necessary I should remain on duty until I had got you over the fatal +date,” he said. + +Thalia Drummond came in at that moment with another batch of +correspondence. + +“Good morning, Miss Drummond.” + +The inspector raised his eyes to the girl. + +“I’ve been reading about you this morning,” said Thalia coolly. +“You’re becoming quite a public character, Mr. Parr.” + +“Anything for the sake of a little advertisement,” murmured the +inspector without resentment. “It is a long time since I saw your name +in the paper, Miss Drummond.” + +His reference to her appearance in a police court seemed to afford +Thalia a great deal of amusement. + +“I shall have my share in time,” she said. “What is the latest news +about the Crimson Circle?” + +“The latest news,” said Mr. Parr slowly, “is that all correspondence +addressed to the Crimson Circle of Mildred Street must in future be +sent elsewhere.” + +He saw her face change; it was only a momentary flash, but the effect +was very gratifying to Inspector Parr. + +“Are they opening offices in the city?” she asked, recovering herself +rapidly. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t. They seem to do almost as +much as they like, and I don’t see why they should not live in a very +handsome block with elevators and electric signs--no, I don’t think +they’d better have electric signs, because even the police would see +them!” + +“Sarcasm in a young woman,” said Mr. Parr severely, “is not only +unbecoming, it is indecent!” + +Yale was listening to this exchange with a delighted smile. If the +girl surprised him, there were moments when Inspector Parr surprised +him as much. This heavy man had a very light malicious touch when he +wished. + +“And where were you last night, Miss Drummond?” asked Parr, his eyes +on the ground. + +“In bed and dreaming,” said Thalia Drummond. + +“Then you must have been walking in your sleep when you were loafing +about at the back of Froyant’s house about half-past nine,” suggested +the inspector. + +“So that is it, eh?” said Thalia. “You found my dainty footsteps in +the garden? Mr. Yale has hinted as much already. No, inspector, I went +for a walk in the park at night. The solitude is very inspiring.” + +Still Parr regarded the carpet attentively. + +“Well, when you walk in the park, young lady, keep at some distance +from Jack Beardmore, because the last time you trailed him, you scared +him!” + +He had hit truly this time. Her face flushed crimson and her delicate +eyebrows met in a frown. + +“Mr. Beardmore isn’t easily scared,” she said, “and +besides--besides----” + +Suddenly she turned and went from the room, and when Parr, after a +little further conversation, also went into the outer office, she +looked up at him and scowled. + +“There are times, inspector, when I positively hate you!” she said +vehemently. + +“You surprise me,” said Inspector Parr. + + + + + Chapter XXXII. + A Trip to the Country + +Police head-quarters was on its trial. The uncomfortable amount of +space which the newspapers were giving to the latest of these +tragedies which were associated with the name of Crimson Circle, the +questions which were on the paper to be asked in Parliament, no less +than the conferences behind closed doors at head-quarters, and the +aloofness of all who were ordinarily connected with Inspector Parr in +his work, were ominous signs which he did not fail to appreciate. + +There was hardly a newspaper which did not publish a very complete +list of the outrages for which the Crimson Circle was responsible, and +not one which did not mention pointedly the damning fact that from the +very beginning of the Circle’s activity, Inspector Parr had had charge +of the various cases. + +He asked for, and was granted, leave to make enquiries in France. +During his few days’ absence, his superiors arranged for his +successor. He had only one friend at head-quarters, and that curiously +and strangely enough was Colonel Morton, the Commissioner in control +of Parr’s department. + +Morton fought his case, but knew that it was a hopeless one from the +beginning. In this he had the assistance of Derrick Yale. Yale made an +early call at head-quarters and gave the fullest particulars with the +object of exonerating his official colleague. + +“The mere fact that I was on the spot, and that I had been specially +engaged to protect Froyant, must take a lot of responsibility from +Parr’s shoulders,” he urged. + +The Commissioner leant back in his chair and folded his arms. + +“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Mr. Yale,” he said bluntly, “but +officially you have no existence, and I am afraid that nothing you +will say is going to help Mr. Parr. He has had his chance--in fact, he +has had several chances, and he has missed them.” + +Just as Yale was going the Commissioner beckoned him to remain. + +“You can throw light upon one subject, Mr. Yale,” he said. “It has +reference to the killing of the man who shot James Beardmore: you +remember Sibly, the sailor.” + +Yale nodded, and resumed the seat he had vacated. + +“Who was in the cell when you were taking this man’s evidence?” + +“Myself, Mr. Parr and an official shorthand writer.” + +“Man or woman?” asked the Commissioner. + +“A man. I think he was a member of your staff. And that was all. The +jailer came in once or twice; in fact he came in while we were there, +and brought the water, which was found afterwards to contain the +poison.” + +The Commissioner opened a folder and selected from many documents a +sheet of foolscap. + +“Here is the jailer’s statement,” he said. “I’ll save you the +preliminaries, but this is what he says,” said the Commissioner; he +fixed his glasses and read slowly: + + + “The prisoner sat on his bed. Mr. Parr was sitting facing him and Mr. + Yale was standing with his back to the cell door, which was open when + I went in. I took a tin mug half full of water which I drew from a + faucet which had been fixed for the purpose of supplying drinking + water. I remember putting the tin down whilst I attended a bell call + from another cell. So far as I know it was impossible that this tin + could be tampered with, though it is true that the door into the yard + was open. When I went into the cell Mr. Parr took the tin from my + hand, and set it on a ledge near the door and told me not to interrupt + them.” + + +“You notice that no reference is made to the shorthand-writer. Was he +obtained locally, do you think?” + +“I’m almost sure he was from your office.” + +“I must ask Parr about that,” said the Commissioner. + +Mr. Parr (who had returned from France) when questioned on the +telephone, admitted that the shorthand-writer was a local man whom he +had secured by making enquiries in the little town. In the confusion +which had followed the discovery that Sibly was dead, he had not +thought to enquire about the man’s identity. + +A typewritten transcript of Sibly’s statement had been given to him, +and he remembered indistinctly paying the writer for his trouble. That +was as far as he could help the Commissioner, whose information on the +subject was not greatly increased. + +Derrick Yale waited whilst this telephonic communication was in +progress, and when the colonel had finished, he gathered from his +dissatisfied expression that Parr’s information was of no particular +value. + +“You don’t remember the man yourself?” + +Yale shook his head. + +“His back was to me, most of the time,” he said, “and he sat by the +side of Parr.” + +The Commissioner muttered something about gross carelessness, and +then: + +“I shouldn’t be surprised if your shorthand-writer was an emissary of +the Crimson Circle,” he said. “It was a piece of criminal neglect to +have taken a man whose identity cannot be established for such an +important piece of work. Yes, Parr has failed.” He sighed. “I am +sorry, in many ways. I like Parr. Of course, he’s one of the +old-fashioned police officers whom you bright outside men affect to +despise, and he hasn’t any extraordinary gifts, although he has been, +in his time, a remarkably good officer. But he’ll have to go. That is +decided. I may tell you this, because I have already made the same +intimation to Parr himself. It is a thousand pities.” + +It was no news to Yale: nor was it news to the youngest officer at +police head-quarters. + +But the person who seemed least concerned was Inspector Parr himself. +He went about his routine work as though unconscious that any +extraordinary change in his position was contemplated, and even when +he met his successor, who came to look at the office he was shortly to +occupy, was geniality itself. + +One afternoon he met Jack Beardmore by accident in the park, and Jack +was struck by the stout little man’s good spirits. + +“Well, inspector,” said Jack, “are we any nearer the end?” + +Parr nodded. + +“I think we are,” he said. “The end of me.” + +This was the first definite news Jack had received of the inspector’s +retirement. + +“But surely you’re not going? You have all the threads in your hands, +Mr. Parr. They can’t be so foolish as to dispense with you at this +very critical moment unless they have given up all hope of capturing +the scoundrel.” + +Mr. Parr thought “they” had given up all hope long ago, but the +attitude of head-quarters was a subject which he did not care to +pursue. + +Jack was going down to his country house. He had not visited the place +since his father’s death, and he would not have gone now but the +necessity had arisen for revising a number of farm leases, and since +the business could not be done in town, and there were other matters +which needed local attention, he decided to spend a night in a place +which had, in addition to the memory of this tragedy, memories almost +as distasteful. + +“Going down into the country are you?” said Mr. Parr thoughtfully. +“Alone?” + +“Yes,” said Jack, and then as he guessed the other’s thoughts, he +asked eagerly, “You would not care to come down as my guest, would +you, Mr. Parr? I should be delighted if you could, but I suppose this +Crimson Circle investigation will keep you in town.” + +“I think they’ll get on very well without me,” said Mr. Parr grimly. +“Yes, I think I should like to come down with you. I haven’t been to +the house since your poor father’s death, and I should like to go over +the grounds again.” + +He asked for an additional two days’ leave, and head-quarters, which +would have willingly dispensed with him for the remainder of his +lifetime, agreed. + +As Jack was leaving that night the inspector went home, packed a small +Gladstone bag, and met him at the station. + +Neither the weather nor the roads were conducive to a long motor-car +journey, and on the whole the inspector agreed that travelling by +train was more comfortable. + +He had left a little note addressed to Derrick Yale, telling him where +he was going, and added at the foot: + + + “_It is possible circumstances may arise which would need my presence + in town. Do not hesitate to send for me if this should be the case._” + + +Remembering this postscript, Mr. Parr’s subsequent conduct was not a +little odd. + + + + + Chapter XXXIII. + The Posters + +Jack did not find him a pleasant travelling companion; the inspector +had brought with him a whole bundle of newspapers, in each of which he +read religiously the comments upon the Crimson Circle. His host saw +what he was reading, and was astonished that the man, phlegmatic as he +was, could find any pleasure in the uncomplimentary references to +himself which filled the journals. He said as much. + +The inspector put down a paper on his knees, and took off his +steel-rimmed pince-nez. + +“I don’t know,” he said. “Criticism never did anybody any harm; it is +only when a man knows he is wrong that this kind of stuff irritates +him. As I happen to know I am right, it doesn’t matter to me what they +say.” + +“You really think you are right? In what respect?” asked Jack +curiously, but here Parr was not offering any information. + +They arrived at the little station and drove the three miles which +separated the line from the big gaunt house which had been James +Beardmore’s delight. + +Jack’s butler, who had come down to superintend arrangements for his +master’s comfort, handed a telegram to Inspector Parr almost as soon +as he put his foot across the threshold. + +Parr looked at the face of the envelope and then at the back. + +“How long has this been here?” + +“It arrived about five minutes ago; a cyclist messenger brought it up +from the village,” he said. + +The inspector tore open the envelope and extracted the form. It was +signed “Derrick Yale,” and read: + + + “_Come back to London at once; most important development._” + + +Without a word he handed the message to the young man. + +“Of course you’ll go. It’s rather a nuisance; there isn’t a train +until nine o’clock,” said Jack, who was disappointed at the prospect +of losing his companion. + +“I’m not going,” said Parr calmly. “Nothing in the wide world would +make me take another train journey to-night. It must wait.” + +This attitude toward the summons did not somehow go with Jack’s +perception of the inspector’s character. He was, if the truth be told, +secretly disappointed, although he was glad enough that Parr would +share his first night in the house, every corner, every room of which, +seemed to have its own especial ghost. + +Parr looked at the telegram again. + +“He must have sent this within half-an-hour of our leaving the +station,” he said. “You have a telephone, haven’t you?” + +Jack nodded, and Parr put through a long distance call. It was a +quarter of an hour before the tinkle of the bell announced that he had +been connected. + +Jack heard his voice in the hall, and presently the detective came in. + +“As I thought,” he said, “the wire was a fake. I’ve just been on to +friend Yale.” + +“And did you guess it was a fake?” + +Mr. Parr nodded. + +“I’m getting almost as good a guesser as Yale,” said the detective +good-humouredly. + +He spent the evening initiating the young man into the mysteries of +picquet, of which Parr was a past-master. There is probably no more +fascinating card game for two in the world than this, and so +pleasantly was the evening passed, that it was with a shock that Jack +looked at the clock and found it was midnight. + +The room to which the inspector was shown was that which had been +occupied by James Beardmore in his lifetime. It was a roomy apartment, +lofty and expansive. There were three long windows, and at night the +room, as the rest of the house, was lighted by means of an +acetylene-gas plant which James Beardmore had installed. + +“Where are you sleeping, by the way?” he said as he paused at the +entrance of his room, after saying good-night. + +“I’m in the next room,” said Jack, and Parr nodded, closed the door, +locking it behind him. + +He heard Jack’s door shut, and proceeded to divest himself of part of +his clothing. He made no attempt to undress, but taking from his +battered suit-case an old silk dressing-gown, he wrapped it about him, +turned out the light and, walking to the windows, pulled up the three +blinds. + +The night was fairly light; there was sufficient to enable him to find +his way back to the bed, on which he lay, pulling the eiderdown over +him. There is a method by which the worst cases of insomnia-haunted +patients may obtain sleep, though it is one which I believe is very +little known. It is to attempt deliberately to keep one’s eyes open in +the dark. + +Mr. Parr succeeded only by turning on his side and staring out of the +nearest window, which he had opened a little. + +Towards morning he rose suddenly and stepped noiselessly towards the +nearest window; he had heard a faint whirr of sound, a noise which a +smoothly-running motor-car makes, but now there was a profound +silence. He went to the washstand, and rubbed his face with cold +water, drying it leisurely. Then he walked back to the window, pulled +up a chair and sat so that he commanded whatever view there was of the +avenue leading to the front of the house. + +He had to wait nearly half an hour before he saw a dark figure steal +from the shadow of the trees, only to disappear again in a deeper +shadow. He momentarily glimpsed it again as it passed out of his range +of vision into the shadow of the house itself. + +The inspector moved softly from the room and, crossing the landing, +went down the stairs. The main door of the house was bolted and +locked, and it was some time before he could open it. When he stepped +out into the night there was nobody in sight. He crept stealthily +along the path which ran parallel with the house, but found no +intruder, and he had reached the main entrance again when he heard the +sound of the motor fading gradually--the midnight visitor had gone. + +He closed and bolted the door and went back to his room. This visit +puzzled him. It was clear that the man, whoever he was, had not seen +Parr, nor could he have been certain that he was under observation. He +must have come and gone almost immediately. + +It was not until he came down to breakfast in the morning that the +mystery of the visitation was revealed. + +Jack was standing before the fire reading a crumpled paper which +looked as if it had been posted up and torn. It was the size of a +small poster and hand-printed. Before he saw its contents, Parr knew +that it was a message from the Crimson Circle. + +“What do you think of this?” asked Jack, looking round as the +detective came in. “We found half a dozen of these posters pasted or +tacked on to the trees of the drive, and this one was stuck up under +my window!” + +The detective read: + + + “_Your father’s debt is still unpaid. It will remain unpaid if you + persuade your friends Derrick Yale and Parr to cease their activity._” + + +Underneath was written in smaller characters, and evidently added as +an afterthought: + + + “_We shall make no further demands upon private individuals._” + + +“So he was bill-posting,” said Parr thoughtfully. “I wondered why he +came and left so early.” + +“Did you see him?” asked Jack in surprise. + +“I just glimpsed him. In fact, I knew he would call, though I expected +a more startling consequence,” said the detective. + +He sat through breakfast without saying a word, except to answer the +questions that Jack put to him, and then only in the briefest fashion, +and it was not until they were walking across the meadows that Parr +asked: + +“I wonder if he knows you’re fond of Thalia Drummond?” + +Jack went red. + +“Why do you ask that?” he said a little anxiously. “You don’t think +they will take their vengeance on Thalia, do you?” + +“If it would serve his purpose, he would wipe out Thalia Drummond like +that.” The detective snapped his fingers. + +He put an end to further conversation by stopping and turning about in +his tracks. + +“This will do,” he said. + +“I thought you wanted to go to the station gate--the way Marl came to +the house that morning?” + +Parr shook his head. + +“No, I wished to be sure how he approached the house. Can you point +out the spot where he suddenly became so agitated?” + +“Why, of course,” said Jack readily, but wondering what it was all +about. “It was much nearer the house; in fact, I can give you the +exact spot, because I particularly remember his stepping aside from +the path and ruining a young rose tree on which he put his foot. There +is the tree--or one the gardener has put in its place.” + +He pointed, and Parr nodded his large head several times. + +“This is very important,” he said. He walked to where the ruined tree +had been. “I knew he was lying,” he said half to himself. “You cannot +see the terrace from here at all. Marl told me that he saw your father +standing on the terrace at the very moment he had his seizure, and my +first impression was that it was the sight of your father which was +responsible for his scare.” + +He gave Jack details of the conversation he had had with Felix Marl +before his death. + +“I could have corrected that,” said Jack. “My father was in the +library all the morning, and he did not come out of the house until we +were ascending the steps of the terrace.” + +Parr, note-book in hand, was making a rough sketch. On his left front +was the solid block of Sedgwood House, immediately before him were the +gardens, enclosed by light iron railings to prevent the cattle +straying on to the flower beds, and broken by the gate through which +Marl must have passed. On the right was a patch of bushes, in the +midst of which showed the gay top of a garden umbrella. + +“Dad was very fond of the shrubbery,” explained Jack. “We get high +winds here even on the warmest days, and the shrubbery affords +shelter. Dad used to sit there for hours reading.” + +Parr was slowly turning on his heel, taking in every detail of the +view. Presently he nodded. + +“I think I have seen all there is to be seen,” he said. + +As they were walking back to the house he reverted to the midnight +bill-poster, and to Jack’s surprise: + +“That was the only false move that the Crimson Circle have made, and I +think it was very much an afterthought. That was not their original +intention, I’ll swear.” + +He sat down on the steps of the terrace and stared out over the +landscape. Jack could not but think that a more uninspiring figure +than Mr. Parr he had never met. His lack of inches, his rotundity, his +large placid face, did not somehow fit in with Jack’s conception of a +shrewd criminal investigator. + +“I’ve got it,” said Parr at last. “My first idea was right. He was +coming down to blackmail you for the money your father did not pay. On +his way he conceived this new idea, which is hinted at in the +postscript of his message. He has decided upon some big coup, so that +the reference to myself and Yale may be genuine; and he really does +want us out of the game, though he’d be a fool if he did not know that +the likelihood of his wishes being fulfilled in that respect are +pretty remote. Let me see the poster again.” + +Jack brought it and the inspector spread it upon the pavement of the +terrace. + +“Yes, this has been written in a hurry; probably written in his car, +and it is a substitute for the poster he originally intended.” He +rubbed his chin impatiently. “Now, what is the new scheme?” + +He was to learn almost immediately, for the butler came hurrying out +to say that the telephone bell had been ringing in Jack’s study for +five minutes. + +“It is you they want,” said Jack, handing the receiver to the +detective. + +Mr. Parr took the instrument in his hands, and recognised immediately +Colonel Morton’s voice. + +“Come back to London at once, Parr; you are to attend a meeting of the +Cabinet this afternoon.” + +Mr. Parr put down the receiver, and a smile spread over his big face. + +“What is it?” asked Jack. + +“I’m joining the Cabinet,” said Mr. Parr, and laughed as Jack had +never seen him laugh before. + + + + + Chapter XXXIV. + Blackmailing a Government + +When they reached London the evening newspapers were filled with the +new sensation. + +The Crimson Circle had indeed decided upon an ambitious programme. + +Briefly the story, as related in an official communique to the Press, +was as follows: + +That morning every member of the Government had received a +type-written document, bearing no address and no other indication of +its origin save a Crimson Circle stamped on every page. The document +ran: + + + “Every effort of your police, both official and private, the genius of + Mr. Derrick Yale, and the plodding efforts of Chief Inspector Parr, + have failed to check Our activity. The full story of Our success is + not known. It has been unfortunately Our unpleasant duty to remove a + number of people from life, not so much in a spirit of vengeance, as + to serve as a salutary warning to others, and only this morning it has + been Our unhappy duty to remove Mr. Samuel Heggitt, a lawyer, who was + engaged by the late Harvey Froyant on particular work, in the course + of which he came unpleasantly close to Our identity. + + “Fortunately for the other members of his firm, he undertook that task + personally. His body will be found by the side of the railway between + Brixton and Marsden. + + “Since the police are unable to hold Us, and since We are in complete + agreement with those in authority who say that We are the most + dangerous menace to society that exists, We have agreed to forego Our + activities on condition that the sum of a million pounds sterling is + placed at Our disposal. The method by which this money shall be + transferred will be detailed later. This must be accompanied by a free + pardon in blank, so that We may, if occasion necessitates, or + hereinafter Our identity is disclosed, avail Ourselves of that + document. + + “Refusal to agree to Our terms will have unpleasant consequences. We + name hereunder twelve eminent Parliamentarians, who must stand as + hostages for the fulfilment of Our desire. If, at the end of the week, + the Government have not agreed to Our terms, one of these gentlemen + will be removed.” + + +The first person that Parr met on his arrival at Whitehall was Derrick +Yale, and for once the famous detective looked worried. + +“I was afraid of this development,” he said, “and the queer thing is +that it has come at a moment when I thought I was in a position to lay +my hand on the chief offender.” + +He took Parr’s hand in his, and walked him along the gloomy corridor. + +“This spoils my day’s fishing,” he said, and Inspector Parr +remembered. + +“Of course, to-day is the day you die! But I suppose you are reprieved +under the general amnesty which the Crimson Circle have issued,” he +said drily, and his companion laughed. + +“I want to tell you, before we go into this meeting, that I am willing +to place myself unreservedly at your disposal,” he said quietly. “I +think you ought to know, Parr, that the present wishes of the Cabinet +are to give me an official status and place the whole of the +investigations in my charge. I have been sounded on the matter, and +have given them point-blank refusal. I am convinced that you are the +best man for the job, and I will serve under no other chief.” + +“Thank you,” said Parr simply. “Perhaps the Cabinet will take another +view.” + +The Cabinet meeting was held in the Secretary of State’s office; all +the recipients of the Crimson Circle’s memo. were present from the +beginning, but it was some time before outsiders were called in. + +Yale was summoned first, and a quarter of an hour later the messenger +beckoned the inspector. + +Inspector Parr knew most of the illustrious gathering by sight, and +being on the opposite side in politics, had no particular respect for +any. He felt an air of hostility as he came into the big room, and the +chilly nod which the white-bearded Prime Minister gave him in response +to his bow, confirmed this impression. + +“Mr. Parr,” said the Prime Minister icily, “we are discussing the +question of the Crimson Circle, which, as you must realise, has become +almost a national problem. Their dangerous character has been +emphasised by a memorandum which has been addressed to the various +members of the Cabinet by this infamous association, and which, I have +no doubt, you have read in the newspapers.” + +“Yes, sir,” said the inspector. + +“I will not disguise from you the fact that we are profoundly +dissatisfied with the course which your investigations have taken. +Although you have had every facility and every power granted you, +including,” he consulted a paper before him, but Parr interrupted him. + +“I should not like you to tell the meeting what powers I have +received, Prime Minister,” he said firmly, “or what particular +privileges have been granted me by the Secretary of State.” + +The Prime Minister was taken aback. + +“Very well,” he said. “I will add that, although you have had +extraordinary privileges, and opportunities, and you have even been +present when the outrages have taken place, you have not succeeded in +bringing the criminal to justice.” + +The inspector nodded. + +“It was our original wish to place the matter in the hands of Mr. +Derrick Yale, who has been especially successful in tracing two of the +murderers, without, however, being able to bring the prime culprit to +justice. Mr. Yale, however, refuses to accept the commission unless +you are in control. He has kindly expressed his willingness to serve +under you, and in this course we are agreed. I understand that your +resignation is already before the Commissioners, and that it has been +formally accepted. That acceptance, for the time being, is reserved. +Now remember, Mr. Parr,” the Prime Minister leant forward and spoke +very earnestly and emphatically: “It is absolutely impossible that we +can accede to the Crimson Circle’s demands: such a course would be the +negation of all law, and the surrender of all authority. We rely upon +you to afford to every member of the Government who is threatened, +that protection which is his right as a citizen. Your whole career is +in the balance.” + +The inspector, thus dismissed, rose slowly. + +“If the Crimson Circle keeps its word,” he said, “I guarantee that not +a hair of one member of your Government shall be harmed in London. +Whether I can capture the man who describes himself as the Crimson +Circle, remains to be seen.” + +“I suppose,” said the Prime Minister, “there is no doubt that this +unfortunate man, Heggitt, has been killed.” + +It was Derrick Yale who answered. + +“No, sir; the body was found early this morning. Mr. Heggitt, who +lives at Marsden, left London last night by train, and apparently the +crime was committed _en route_.” + +“It is deplorable, deplorable.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “A +terrible orgy of murder and crime, and it seems that we are not at the +end of it yet.” + +When they came out into Whitehall, Yale and his companion found that a +large crowd had gathered, for news had leaked out that a meeting was +being held to discuss this new and extraordinary problem which +confronted the Government. + +Yale, who was recognised, was cheered, but Inspector Parr passed +unnoticed through the crowd--to his intense relief. + +Undoubtedly the Crimson Circle was the sensation of the hour. Some of +the evening newspaper placards bore a crimson circle in imitation of +the famous insignia of the gang, and wherever men met, there the +possibility of the Circle carrying their threat into effect was +discussed. + +Thalia Drummond looked up as her employer came in. The evening +newspaper was in front of her, and her chin rested on her clasped +hands, and she read every line, word by word. + +Derrick noticed the interest, and observed, too, her momentary +confusion as she folded the paper and put it away. + +“Well, Miss Drummond, what do you think of their last exploit?” + +“It is colossal,” she said. “In some respects, admirable.” + +He looked at her gravely. + +“I confess I can see little to admire,” he said. “You take rather a +queer, twisted view of things.” + +“Don’t I?” she said coolly. “You must never forget, Mr. Yale, that I +have a queer, twisted mind.” + +He paused at the door of his room and looked back at her, a long, keen +scrutiny, which she met without so much as an eyelid quivering. + +“I think you should be very grateful that Mr. Johnson, of Mildred +Street, no longer receives your interesting communications,” he said, +and she was silent. + +He came out again soon after. + +“I am probably going to establish my offices at police head-quarters,” +he said, “and realising that that atmosphere is one in which you will +not flourish, I am leaving you here in control of my ordinary +business.” + +“Are you accepting the responsibility for capturing the Crimson +Circle?” she asked steadily. + +He shook his head. + +“Inspector Parr is in control,” he said, “but I am going to help him.” + +He made no further reference to his new task, and the rest of the +morning was spent in routine work. He went out to lunch and said he +would not be back that day, giving her instructions regarding letters +he wished despatched. + +He had hardly gone before his telephone bell went, and at the sound of +the voice at the other end, she nearly dropped the receiver. + +“Yes, it is I,” she said. “Good morning, Mr. Beardmore.” + +“Is Yale there?” asked Jack. + +“He has just gone out: he will not be back to-day. If there is +anything important to tell him, I may be able to find him,” she said, +steadying her voice with an effort. + +“I don’t know whether it’s important or not,” said Jack, “but I was +going through my father’s papers this morning, a very disagreeable +job, by the way, and I found a whole bunch of papers relating to +Marl.” + +“To Marl?” she said slowly. + +“Yes, apparently poor Dad knew a great deal more about Marl than we +imagined. He had been in prison: did you know that?” + +“I could have guessed it,” said Thalia. + +“Father always put through an inquiry about people before he did +business with them,” Jack went on, “and apparently there is a lot of +explanation about Marl’s early life, collected by a French agency. He +seems to have been a pretty bad lot, and I wonder the governor had +dealings with him. One curious document is an envelope which is marked +‘Photograph of Execution’: it was sealed up by the French people, and +apparently the governor didn’t open it. He hated gruesome things of +that kind.” + +“Have you opened it?” she asked quickly. + +“No,” he answered in a tone of surprise. “Why do you jump at me like +that?” + +“Will you do me a favour, Jack?” + +It was the first time she had ever called him by name, and she could +almost see him redden. + +“Why--why, of course, Thalia, I’d do anything for you,” he said +eagerly. + +“Don’t open the envelope,” she said intensely. “Keep all the papers +relating to Marl in a safe place. Will you promise that?” + +“I promise,” he said. “What a queer request to make!” + +“Have you told anybody about it?” she asked. + +“I sent a note to Inspector Parr.” + +He heard her exclamation of annoyance. + +“Will you promise me not to tell anybody, especially about the +photograph?” + +“Of course, Thalia,” he answered. “I’ll send it along to you, if you +like.” + +“No, no, don’t do that,” she said, then abruptly she finished the +conversation. + +She sat for a few minutes breathing quickly, and then she rose, and +putting on her hat, she locked up the office, and went to lunch. + + + + + Chapter XXXV. + Thalia Lunches with a Cabinet Minister + +The fourth of the month had passed, and Derrick Yale was still +alive. He commented on the fact as he came into the office which he +and Inspector Parr jointly occupied. + +“Incidentally,” he said, “I have lost my fishing.” + +Parr grunted. + +“It is better that you lost your fishing than that we lost sight of +you,” he said. “I am perfectly convinced that if you had taken that +trip, you would never have returned.” + +Yale laughed. + +“You have a tremendous faith in the Crimson Circle, and their ability +to keep their promises.” + +“I have--to a point,” said the inspector, without looking up from the +letter he was writing. + +“I hear that Brabazon has made a statement to the police,” said Yale, +after an interval. + +“Yes,” said the inspector. “Not a very informative one, but a +statement of sorts. He has admitted that for a long time he was +changing the money which the Crimson Circle extracted from their +victims, though he was unaware of the fact. He also gives particulars +of his joining the Circle, after which, of course, he acted as a +conscious agent.” + +“Are you charging him with the murder of Marl?” + +Inspector Parr shook his head. + +“We haven’t sufficient evidence for that,” he said, blotted his +letter, folded it and enclosed it in an envelope. + +“What did you discover in France? I have not had an opportunity of +talking to you about that,” asked Yale. + +Parr leant back in his chair, felt for his pipe, and lit it before he +answered. + +“About as much as poor old Froyant discovered,” he said. “In fact, I +followed very closely the same line of investigation that he had. It +was mostly and mainly about Marl and his iniquities. You know that he +was a member of a criminal gang in France, and that he and his +companion, Lightman--I think that was the name--were condemned to +death. Lightman should have died, but the executioners bungled the +job, and he was sent off to Devil’s Island, or Cayenne, or one of +those French settlements, where he died.” + +“He escaped,” said Yale quietly. + +“The devil he did.” Mr. Parr looked up. “Personally, I wasn’t so +interested in Lightman as I was in Marl.” + +“Do you speak French, Parr?” asked Yale suddenly. + +“Fluently,” was the reply, and the inspector looked up. “Why do you +ask?” + +“I have no reason, except that I wondered how you pursued your +inquiries.” + +“I speak French--very well,” said Parr, and would have changed the +subject. + +“And Lightman escaped,” said Yale softly. “I wonder where he is now.” + +“That is a question I have never troubled to ask myself.” There was a +note of impatience in the inspector’s voice. + +“You were not the only person interested in Marl, apparently. I saw a +note on your desk from young Beardmore, saying that he had discovered +some papers relating to the late Felix. His father had also made +inquiries about the man. Of course, James Beardmore would. He was a +cautious man.” + +He was lunching with the Commissioner, Mr. Parr learnt, and was not at +all hurt that he was excluded from the invitation. He was very busy in +these days, selecting the men who were to form the bodyguard of the +Cabinet, and he could well afford to miss engagements which invariably +bored him. + +As it happens, his company would have been a great embarrassment, for +Yale had something to communicate to the Commissioner, something which +it was not well that Inspector Parr should hear. It was near to the +end of the meal that he dropped his bombshell, and it was so effective +that the Commissioner fell back in his chair and gasped. + +“Somebody at police head-quarters,” he said incredulously. “Why, that +is impossible, Mr. Yale.” + +Derrick Yale shook his head. + +“I wouldn’t say anything was impossible, sir,” he said, “but doesn’t +it seem to you that all the evidence tends to support that idea? Every +effort that we make to bring about the undoing of the Crimson Circle +is anticipated. Somebody having access to the cell of Sibly, killed +him. Who but a person having authority from head-quarters? Take the +case of Froyant: there were a number of detectives on duty round and +about the house; nobody apparently came in and nobody went out.” + +The Commissioner was calmer now. + +“Let us have this thing clear, Mr. Yale,” he said. “Are you accusing +Parr?” + +Derrick Yale laughed and shook his head. + +“Why, of course not,” he said. “I cannot imagine Parr having a single +criminal instinct. Only if you will think the matter out,” he leant +over the table and lowered his voice, “and will go into every detail +and every crime that the Crimson Circle has committed, you cannot fail +to be struck by this fact: that, hovering in the background all the +time was somebody in authority.” + +“Parr?” said the Commissioner. + +Derrick Yale bit his lower lip thoughtfully. + +“I don’t want to think of Parr,” he said. “I would rather think of him +as being victimised by a subordinate he trusts. You quite understand,” +he went on quickly, “that I should not hesitate to accuse Parr if my +discoveries took me in that direction. I would not even free you, sir, +from suspicion, if you gave me cause.” + +The Commissioner looked uncomfortable. + +“I can assure you that I know nothing whatever about the Crimson +Circle,” he said gruffly, and realising the absurdity of his protest, +laughed. + +“Who is that girl over there?” he pointed to a couple who were dining +in a corner of the big restaurant. “She keeps looking across toward +you.” + +“That girl,” said Mr. Derrick Yale carefully, “is a young lady named +Thalia Drummond, and her companion, unless I am greatly mistaken, is +the Honourable Raphael Willings, a member of the Government and one +who has been threatened by the Crimson Circle.” + +“Thalia Drummond?” The Commissioner whistled. “Isn’t she the young +person who was in very serious trouble some time ago? She was +Froyant’s secretary, was she not?” + +The other nodded. + +“She is an enigma to me,” he said, shaking his head, “and the greatest +mystery of all is her nerve. At this precise moment she is supposed to +be sitting in my office answering telephone calls and dealing with any +correspondence which may arrive.” + +“You employ her, do you?” asked the astonished Commissioner, and then +with a little smile, “I agree with you about her nerve, but how does a +girl of that class come to be acquainted with Mr. Willings?” + +Here Derrick Yale was not prepared to supply an answer. + +He was still sitting with the Commissioner when he saw the girl rise +and, followed by her companion, walk slowly down the room. Her way led +her past his table, and she met his enquiring glance with a smile and +a little nod, and said something over her shoulder to the middle-aged +man who was following her. + +“How is that for nerve?” asked Derrick. + +“I should imagine you’d have something to say to the young lady,” was +the Commissioner’s only comment. + +Derrick Yale was very seldom conventional, either in his speech or his +behaviour, but for once he found it difficult to deal with a painful +situation other than in the time-honoured way. + +The girl had reached the office a few minutes before him, and she was +taking off her hat when he came in. + +“One moment, Miss Drummond,” he said. “I have a few words to say to +you before you continue your work. Why were you away from the office +at lunch time? I particularly asked you to be here.” + +“And Mr. Willings particularly asked me to go to lunch,” said Thalia +with an innocent smile, “and as he is a member of the Government, I am +sure you would not have liked me to refuse.” + +“How did you come to know Mr. Willings?” + +She looked at him up and down with that cool, insolent glance of hers. + +“There are many ways one may meet men,” she said. “One may advertise +for them in the matrimonial newspapers, or one may meet them in the +park, or one may be introduced to them. I was introduced to Mr. +Willings.” + +“When?” + +“This morning,” she said, “at about two o’clock. I sometimes go to +dances at Merros Club,” she explained. “It is the relaxation which my +youth excuses. That is where we became acquainted.” + +Yale took some money from his pocket and laid it on the desk. + +“There is your week’s wages, Miss Drummond,” he said without heat. “I +shall not require your services after this afternoon.” + +She raised her eyebrows. + +“Aren’t you going to reform me?” she asked him so seriously that he +was taken aback. Then he laughed. + +“You’re beyond reformation. There are many things I will excuse, and +had there been a serious shortage in the petty cash, I could have +overlooked that. But I cannot allow you to leave my office when I give +you explicit instructions to stay here.” + +She picked up the money and counted it. + +“Exactly the sum,” she mocked. “You must be Scottish, Mr. Yale.” + +“There is only one way that you could be reformed, Thalia Drummond.” +His voice was very earnest, and he seemed to experience a difficulty +in finding the right words. + +“And what is that, pray?” + +“For a man to marry you. I’m almost inclined to make the experiment.” + +She sat on the edge of the desk and rocked with silent laughter. + +“You are funny,” she said at last, “and now I see that you are a true +reformer.” She was solemnity itself now. “Confess, Mr. Yale, that you +only look upon me as an experiment, and that you have no more +affection for me than I have for that aged and decrepit blue-bottle +crawling up the wall.” + +“I’m not in love with you, if that is what you mean.” + +“I did mean something of the sort,” she said. “No, on the whole, I +think I’ll take my dismissal and my week’s wages, and thank you for +giving me the opportunity of meeting and serving such a brilliant +genius.” + +He ended the conversation as though he had made some business proposal +which had been declined, and said something about giving her a +reference, and there the matter ended for him. He went into his +office, and did not even do her the honour of slamming the door after +him. + +And yet her dismissal was a serious matter for Thalia. It meant one of +two things. Either that Derrick Yale seriously suspected her--and that +was the gravest possibility to her--or else that her discharge was +only a ruse, part of a deeper plan to bring about her undoing. + +On her way home she recalled his reference to Johnson of Mildred +Street. There might be something behind that beyond the revelation of +the fact that he knew she was associated with the Crimson Circle, and +he wanted her to know he knew. + +When she reached her flat there was a letter waiting for her, as there +had been on the previous night. The controlling spirit of the Crimson +Circle was an assiduous correspondent as far as she was concerned. In +the privacy of her own room she tore open the envelope. + + + “You did well,” (the letter ran). “You have carried out my + instructions to the letter. The introduction to Willings was well + managed and, as I promised you, there was no difficulty. I wish you to + know this man thoroughly and discover what are his little weaknesses. + Particularly do I wish to know his attitude of mind and the real + attitude of the Cabinet towards my proposal. The dress you wore at + lunch to-day was not quite good enough. Do not spare expense in the + matter of costume. Derrick Yale is dismissing you this afternoon, but + that need not trouble you, for there is no further need for you to + stay in his office. You are dining to-night with Willings. He is + particularly susceptible to feminine charms. If possible, let him + invite you to his house. He has a collection of ancient swords of + which he is very proud. You will then be able to discover the lay of + the house.” + + +She looked into the envelope. There were two crisp notes for a hundred +pounds, and as she put them into her little hand-bag her face was very +grave. + + + + + Chapter XXXVI. + The Circle Meets + +Mr. Raphael Willings was a product of his age. Though he was still +in the early forties, he had pushed himself into Cabinet rank by the +sheer force of his character. To describe him as a popular Minister +would be to stretch the truth beyond permissible bounds. He was +neither popular with his colleagues, nor with the country who, whilst +recognising his remarkable powers and acclaiming him as the greatest +of the parliamentary orators, nevertheless distrusted him. He had +given so many proofs of his insincerity that it was remarkable that he +should have attained to the position he occupied. + +But he had a number of followers. Men who were unwavering in their +faith, who could be depended upon to vote steadily at the lift of his +finger, and the Government majority was too small to risk the +exclusion of the Willings’ _bloc_. + +Amongst his colleagues he had a bad name. It is not necessary to +particularise the circumstances which produced his reputation, but it +is a notorious fact that he escaped appearing in an unsavoury divorce +case by the skin of his teeth. So unpopular was he that twice Merros +Club and a fashionable night club of which he was a member and an +_habitué_, were raided by the police in the hope of compromising this +flighty politician. The raid had been planned by the wife of one of +his colleagues, and that Willings was not unaware of the fact, was +proved when the newspaper he owned aimed a bitter attack on the lady’s +unfortunate husband, an attack so worded, so framed, that the Minister +retired from public life. + +A well-built man inclined to plumpness, slightly bald, there was no +gainsaying his personal charm. He was under the impression that his +introduction to Thalia Drummond had been skilfully manœuvred by +himself. He would have been horrified to know that the lady who +introduced him had received instructions that morning from the Crimson +Circle to bring the introduction about. The Crimson Circle had its +agents in all branches of life and in all classes. There were +book-keepers, there was at least one railway director, there was a +doctor and three _chefs d’hotel_ amongst the hundred who obeyed the +call of the Crimson Circle. They were well paid and their duties were +not onerous. Sometimes, as in this case, they had no more to do than +to bring about an introduction between two people whom the Crimson +Circle desired to meet, but in every case their instructions came to +them in exactly the same form. + +The organisation of this great force was extraordinarily complete. In +some uncanny way the chief of the Crimson Circle had smelt penury and +disaster almost as soon as the suffering recipients of these two evil +factors were aware that they were present. One by one they had been +absorbed, each ignorant of the other’s identity, and profoundly +ignorant of their master. He had come to them in strange places and +circumstances. Each had his own function to perform, and generally the +part which was played by the subordinate members of the league was +ludicrously simple and unimportant. + +A few members of the Circle had, in a panic, made statements to police +head-quarters, and from them it was learned how simple were some of +the tasks which were given out by the mystery man. + +From fear of the tragic consequences of disloyalty, the majority of +the Crimson Circle remained loyal to their unknown chief, and it was a +remarkable tribute to his system of espionage, that when he sent forth +his summons, as he did on the day Derrick Yale lunched with the +Commissioner, calling every member of the Crimson Circle to the first +meeting they had ever held, giving them the most explicit instructions +as to the garb they should wear, and the means they should adopt to +avoid disclosing themselves to their fellows, he omitted the waverers +and the malcontents as though their very thoughts were written plainly +before him. + +To Thalia Drummond that meeting will always remain the most vivid and +poignant memory of her association with the Crimson Circle. + +The city contains many old churches, but none anterior in date to the +church of St. Agnes on Powder Hill. It had escaped the ravages of the +Great Fire, only to be smothered under by the busy city which had +grown up about it. Enclosed by tall warehouses, so that its squat +steeple was absent from the sky-line, it had a congregation which +might be numbered on the fingers of two hands, although it supported +a vicar who preached punctiliously every week to a congregation which +was practically paid to attend. Once a churchyard had surrounded it, +and the bones of the faithful had been laid to peace within its +shadow, but the avaricious city, grudging so much waste building land, +had passed Acts which had removed the bones to a more salubrious +situation and had covered the place of family vaults with office +buildings. + +Entrance to the church was up an alley which led from a side passage +and the figures which slunk along the unlighted way seemed to melt +through the almost invisible doors into a gloom even thicker than the +night. + +For in the church of St. Agnes the Crimson Circle held the first and +last meeting of his servitors. + +Here, again, his organisation was marvellous. Every member of his +company had received explicit orders telling him to the very minute +when he must arrive, so that no two came together. How he obtained the +keys of the church; what careful manœuvring he must have planned to +bring the hour of meeting and the dispersal between the two periods +when the lane would be patrolled by the City police, Thalia Drummond +could only guess. + +She came into the alley-way punctually, went up the two steps to a +door which opened as she approached and was closed immediately she +entered the lobby. There was no light of any kind, save for the faint +light of night which filtered through a stained-glass window. + +“Go straight ahead,” whispered a voice. “You will take the end of the +second pew on the right.” + +There were other people in the church. She could just distinguish +them, two in each pew, a silent, ghostly congregation, none speaking +to the other. Presently the man who had admitted her came into the +church and walked to the altar rails, and at the first words she knew +that the servants of the Crimson Circle sat in the presence of their +master. + +His voice was low and muffled and hollow; she guessed he wore the veil +she had seen over his head the first night she had met him. + +“My friends,” he said, and she heard every word, “the time has come +when our society will be dispersed. You have read my offer in the +public press; and you are interested to this extent, that I intend +distributing at least twenty per cent. of the money which the +Government must eventually give me amongst those who have served me. +If there are any here who are nervous that we shall be interrupted, +let me assure them that the police patrol does not pass for another +quarter of an hour, and that it is quite impossible for the sound of +my voice to reach outside the church.” + +He raised his voice a little, and there was a hard note in it when he +added: + +“And to those who may have treachery in their hearts, and imagine that +so widely announced a meeting might bring about my undoing, let me say +that it is impossible that I shall be captured to-night. Ladies and +gentlemen, I will not disguise from you that we are in considerable +danger. Facts which may enable the police to identify me have on two +occasions almost come to light. I have upon my tracks, Derrick Yale, +who I will not deny is a source of considerable anxiety to me, and +Inspector Parr”--he paused--“who is not to be despised. In this +supreme moment I do not hesitate to call upon every one of you for an +extraordinary effort of assistance. To-morrow you will each receive +operation orders prepared in such detail that it will be impossible +for you to misunderstand any particular requirement I have made known. +Remember that you are as much in danger as I,” he said more softly, +“and your reward shall be correspondingly great. Now you will pass out +of the church one by one, at thirty seconds interval, beginning with +the first two on the right, continuing with the first two on the left. +Go!” + +At intervals these dark figures glided along the aisle and vanished +through the door to the left of the pulpit. + +The man at the chancel rails waited until the church was empty and +then he, too, passed through the door into the lobby and into the +passage. + +He locked the outer door and slipped the key into his pocket. The +church clock was booming the half-hour when he called a taxi-cab and +was driven westward. + +Thalia Drummond had preceded him by a quarter of an hour, and in the +taxi which carried her to the same end of the town she brought about a +lightning transformation of her appearance. The old black raincoat +which covered her to the throat, the heavy-veiled black hat, were +taken off. Beneath it she wore a cloak of delicate silk tissue, +covering an evening dress which would have satisfied her apparently +exigent master. + +She took off her hat and tidied her hair as well as she could, and +when she stepped down at the flashing entrance of Merros Club and +handed a small attaché case to the bowing attendant, she was a +picture of radiant loveliness. + +So Jack Beardmore thought. He was supping with some friends much +against his will, for he hated the night side of life, when he saw her +come in, and scowled jealously at her debonair escort. + +“Who is he?” + +Jack’s companion glanced across lazily. + +“I don’t know the lady,” he said, “but the man is Raphael Willings. He +is a big pot in the Government.” + +Thalia Drummond had seen the young man before he had seen her, and she +groaned inwardly. Half of what her host said she missed; her mind was +completely absorbed in other directions, and it was not until a +familiar phrase reached her ear that she turned her interest toward +the Minister. + +“Antique swords,” she said with a start. “I’m told you have a +wonderful collection, Mr. Willings.” + +“Are you interested?” he smiled. + +“A little. In fact, quite a lot,” she said awkwardly, and it was not +like Thalia to be at a loss for a reply. + +“Could I ask you to come along to tea one day and see them?” said +Raphael. “One doesn’t often find a woman who is interested in such +things. Shall we say to-morrow?” + +“Not to-morrow,” said Thalia hastily. “Perhaps the next day.” + +He made the appointment then and there, writing it ostensibly on his +cuff. + +She saw Jack leave the club without a look in her direction, and she +felt absurdly miserable. She did so want to talk to him and was +praying that he would come over to their table. + +Mr. Willings insisted upon driving her home in his car, and she left +him with a sigh of relief. He did not harmonise with her mood that +night. + +There was a little forecourt to the flats in which she lived, and she +had dismissed her admirer (he made no secret of this relationship) in +the street outside. She had to walk a dozen paces to reach one of the +two entrances, and even before she had sent her escort away, she was +aware that a man was waiting for her in the darkened court. She stood +on the pavement until Willings’s car had moved on, and then she came +slowly toward the waiting man. He spoke for a minute in a voice that +was a little above a whisper, and she responded in the same tone. + +The conversation was of very short duration. Presently the man turned +without sign or word of farewell, and walked quickly away and the girl +entered her flat. + +Though the man made no sign, he knew he was being followed. He had +been waiting for ten minutes in the dark of the forecourt and had seen +the stealthy figure in the doorway of a closed shop opposite the +flats. Apparently, however, he was oblivious of the fact that somebody +was walking behind him, somebody who he knew would presently overtake +him and look into his face. He turned into a side thoroughfare where +the street lamps were few and far between, and as he did so he +slackened his pace. Presently the spy overtook him, choosing for the +point of passing, a place within the radius of a lamp. He had bent his +head to peer into the first man’s face when suddenly the quarry turned +and sprang at him. The trailer was taken by surprise; before he could +shout, a grip of iron was around his throat and he was flung +half-senseless to the stone pavement. And then from nowhere in +particular, appeared as by magic three men, who pounced upon the +prostrate tracker and jerked him to his feet. + +He glared round, dazed and shaken, and his eyes fell upon the man he +had been set to watch. + +“My God!” he gasped. “I know you!” + +The other smiled. + +“You will never be able to employ your information, my friend,” he +said. + + + + + Chapter XXXVII. + “I Will See You--If You Are Alive” + +Jack Beardmore went home savage and sick at heart. Thalia Drummond +was an obsession to him, and yet he had every reason to believe the +worst of her. He was a fool, a thrice-condemned fool, he told himself +as he paced the library, his hands thrust into his pockets, his +handsome young face clouded with the gloom of despair. He felt at that +moment he would like to hurt her, punish her as she unconsciously had +punished him. He flung himself down into his chair and sat for an hour +with his head on his hands, covering the old ground which reason had +so often trodden that it had left a worn and familiar track. + +He got up sick and weary, and, opening a safe, took out a packet of +documents and flung them on the table. It was the sealed envelope +addressed to his father and unopened which interested him most, and he +had a childish desire to open it if only to spite Thalia. + +Why was she so anxious that he should not see the photograph which it +contained? Was she so interested in Marl? He remembered with a scowl +that she had spent the evening with that man on the night he died so +mysteriously. He rose, and gathering the papers together, he carried +them to his bedroom. He was so tired that he had not even the +curiosity to probe into the mystery which attached to the photograph +of an execution. He shivered at the thought of the grisly contents, +and he dropped the package on his dressing-table with a little grimace +and began leisurely to undress. + +He quite expected that he would pass a sleepless night; his emotion +and the state of his mind seemed to call for such an end to a +miserable day, but youth, if it has its anguish, has also its natural +reaction. He was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. +And then he began to dream. To dream of Thalia Drummond; and in his +dream, Thalia was in the power of an ogre whose face was remarkably +like Inspector Parr’s. He dreamt of Marl, a grotesque terrifying +figure, whom he somehow associated with Inspector Parr’s +grandmother--that “mother” of whom he stood in such awe. + +What woke him was the reflection of a light from the dressing-table +mirror. The light had been extinguished when he sat up in bed, but, +half-asleep as he was, he was certain that there had been a flash of +some kind--it was hardly the season for lightning. + +“Who is there?” he asked, and put out his hand to reach for the lamp. +But the lamp was not there; somebody had moved it. Now he saw, and was +out of bed in a second. + +He heard a movement toward the door and ran. Somebody was in his grip, +somebody who squirmed and struggled, and then he released his hold +with a gasp. It was a woman--instinct told him that it was Thalia +Drummond. + +Slowly he put out his hand, groping for the electric switch, and the +room was flooded with light. + +It was Thalia--Thalia as white as death and trembling. Thalia who held +something behind her and met his pained gaze with a tragic attempt at +defiance. + +“Thalia!” he groaned, and sat down. + +Thalia in his room! What had she been doing? + +“Why did you come?” he asked shakily, “and what are you concealing?” + +“Why did you bring those papers up to your room?” she asked almost +fiercely. “If you had left them in your safe--oh, why didn’t you leave +them in your safe?” + +And now he saw that she held the sealed packet containing the +photograph of the execution. + +“But--but, Thalia,” he stammered, “I don’t understand you. Why didn’t +you tell me----” + +“I told you not to look at the picture. I never dreamt you would bring +it here. They have been here to-night searching for it.” + +She was breathless, on the verge of tears that were not all anger. + +“Been here to-night?” he said slowly. “Who have been here?” + +“The Crimson Circle. They knew you had that photograph, and they came +and burgled your library. I was in the house when they came, and +prayed--prayed”--she wrung her hands and he saw the look of anguish on +her face. “I prayed that they would find it, and now they will think +you have seen the picture. Oh, why did you do it?” + +He reached for his dressing-gown, realising that his attire was +somewhat scanty, and in the warm folds he felt a little more +assurance. + +“You are still talking Greek to me,” he said. “The thing I understand +perfectly is that my house has been burgled. Will you come with me?” + +She followed him down the stairs and into his library. She had spoken +the truth. The door of the safe hung drunkenly upon its hinges. A hole +had been cut through the shutter and it was open. The contents of the +safe lay upon the floor; the drawers of his desk had been forced open +and apparently a search had been made amongst the papers on the desk. +Even the waste-paper basket had been turned out and searched. + +“I can’t understand it,” he muttered. He was pulling the heavy +curtains across the window. + +“You will understand better, though I hope you do not understand too +well,” she said grimly. “Now, please take a sheet of paper and write +as I dictate.” + +“To whom must I write?” he asked in surprise. + +“Inspector Parr,” she said. “Say ‘_Dear Inspector.--Here is the +photograph which my father received the day before his death. I have +not opened it, but perhaps it may interest you._’” + +Meekly he wrote as she ordered and signed the letter, which, with the +photograph, she put into a large envelope. + +“And now address it,” she said. “And write on it on the top left-hand +corner, ‘From John Beardmore,’ and put after that ‘Photograph, very +urgent.’” + +With the envelope in her hand she walked to the door. + +“I shall see you to-morrow, Mr. Beardmore, if you are alive.” + +He would have laughed, but there was something in her drawn face, some +message in her quivering lips, that checked the laughter on his. + + + + + Chapter XXXVIII. + The Arrest of Thalia + +It was the seventh day following the meeting of the Cabinet, and, so +far from agreeing with the terms of the Crimson Circle, the Government +had made it known, in the most unmistakable terms, that it refused to +deal with the Circle or its emissaries. + +That afternoon Mr. Raphael Willings prepared for a visitor. His house +in Onslow Gardens was one of the show places of the country. His +collection of antique armour and swords, his priceless intaglios and +his rare prints were without equal in the world. But he had no thought +of his visitor’s antiquarian interests when he made his preparations, +and he was less deterred than stimulated by a confidential document +which had come to him, intimating in plain language the character +which Thalia Drummond bore. + +Thief she might be--well, she could take any sword in the armoury, any +print on the wall, the rarest intaglio among his show cases, so long +as she was pleasant and complacent. + +When Thalia came she was admitted by a foreign-looking footman and +remembered that Raphael Willings had only Italian servants in the +house. + +Warily she surveyed the room into which she was ushered. There were +open windows at each end--which surprised her. She had expected to +find a little tête-à-tête tea table. That was missing, and yet in +this room was the cream of his collection, as she could see at a +glance. + +Willings came in a few seconds later, and greeted her warmly. + +“Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die; perhaps to-day,” he +said melodramatically. “Have you heard the news?” + +She shook her head. + +“I am the newest victim of the Crimson Circle,” he said gaily enough. +“You probably read the newspapers, and know all about that famous +company. Yes,” he went on with a laugh, “of all my colleagues I have +the honour to be the first chosen for sacrifice; _pour encourager les +autres_.” + +She could not help wondering how, in these circumstances, Ralph +Willings could preserve so unruffled a mien. + +“As the tragedy is due to occur in this house some time this +afternoon,” he was continuing, “I must ask you to extend your +kindness----” + +There was a tap at the door, and a servant came in to say something in +Italian, which the girl did not understand. + +Raphael nodded. + +“My car is at the door, if you would honour me, we will have tea at my +little place in the country. We shall be there in half-an-hour.” + +This was a development she had not looked for. + +“Where is your little place in the country,” she asked. + +It was, he explained, between Barnet and Hatfield, and expatiated on +the loveliness of Hertfordshire. + +“I prefer to have tea here,” she said, but he shook his head. + +“Believe me, my dear young lady,” he said earnestly, “the threat of +the Crimson Circle distresses me not at all. Onslow Gardens is +‘paradise enow’ with so delightful a guest, but the police have been +to see me this afternoon, and have changed all my plans. I told them +that I had a friend coming to tea, and they suggested a more public +rendezvous. The police, however, quite approve of my alternative +scheme. Now, Miss Drummond, you are not going to spoil a very happy +afternoon? I owe you a thousand apologies, but I shall be very +disappointed if you refuse: I have sent two of my servants down to +have everything in readiness, and I hope to be able to show you one of +the loveliest little houses within a hundred miles of London.” + +She nodded. + +“Very well,” she said, and when he had gone, she strolled through the +room examining its fascinating contents with every appearance of +interest. + +He came back wearing his greatcoat, and found her looking at a section +of the wall which was covered with beautiful examples of the Eastern +swordmaker’s art. + +“They’re lovely, aren’t they? I’m so sorry I can’t explain the history +of them,” he said, and then in a changed tone: “Who has taken the +Assyrian dagger?” + +There was undoubtedly a blank space in the wall where a weapon had +hung, and a little label beneath the empty space was sufficient to +call attention to its absence. + +“I was wondering the same thing,” said the girl. + +Mr. Willings frowned. + +“Perhaps one of the servants have taken it down,” he suggested. +“Though I have given them strict instructions that they are not to be +cleaned except under my personal directions.” He hesitated, and then: +“I’ll see about that when I come back,” he said, and he ushered her +out of the room into the waiting limousine. + +She could see that the loss of his precious trophy had disturbed him, +for some of his animation had departed. + +“I can’t understand it,” he said as they were passing through Barnet. +“I know the dagger was there yesterday, because I was showing it to +Sir Thomas Summers. He is keenly interested in Eastern steel work. +None of the servants would dare touch the swords.” + +“Perhaps you’ve had strangers in the room.” + +He shook his head. + +“Only the gentleman from police head-quarters,” he said, “and I’m +quite sure he wouldn’t have taken it. No, it is a little mystery which +we can put on one side at the moment.” + +For the rest of the journey he was attentive, polite, and mildly +amusing. Not once did he give the slightest hint that he entertained +any other emotion towards her than that of a well-bred man for a +respected guest. + +He had not exaggerated the charms of his “little place” on the +Hatfield Road. In truth, it lay nearly three miles from the main road, +and was delightfully situated in the midst of rolling and wooded +country. + +“Here we are,” he said, as he led her through a panelled hall into an +exquisitely decorated little drawing-room. + +Tea was laid, but there was no servant in sight. + +“And now, my dear,” said Willings, “we are alone, thank heaven.” + +His tone, his very manner had changed, and the girl knew that the +critical moment was at hand. Yet her hand did not tremble as she +filled the teapot from the steaming kettle, seemingly oblivious to all +that he was saying. She had poured out the tea and was setting his cup +in its place, when, without preliminary, he stooped over her and +kissed her; another second, and she was in his arms. + +She did not struggle, but her grave eyes were fixed steadfastly on +his, and she said quietly: + +“I have something I’d like to say to you.” + +“Well, you can say anything you wish, my dear,” said the amorous +Willings, holding her tightly, and looking into her unflinching eyes. + +Before she could speak again his mouth was against hers. She tried to +get her arm between them, and to exercise the ju-jitsu trick she had +learnt at school, but he knew something of that science. She had seen +on entering the room that at one end was a curtained recess, and +toward this he was half-lifting, half-carrying her. She did not +scream, indeed, to Raphael, she seemed more yielding than he had dared +to hope. Twice she tried to speak, and twice he stopped her. She +struggled nearer and nearer to the curtained brocade.… + +The two Italian servants were in the kitchen which was somewhat +removed from the room, but they heard the scream and looked at one +another, and then with one accord they flew into the hall. The door of +the drawing-room was unlocked: they flung it open. Near by the curtain +Raphael Willings lay on his face, three inches of Assyrian dagger in +his shoulder, and standing by him, staring down at him was a +white-faced girl. + +One of the men jerked the dagger from his master’s back, and lifted +him groaning to a sofa, whilst the other rushed to the telephone. In +his agitation the Italian who was endeavouring to staunch the flow of +blood from the wound, jabbered unintelligibly at the girl, but she did +not hear him, and would not have understood him if she had. + +Like one in a dream she walked slowly from the room, through the hall, +and into the open. + +Raphael Willings’s car was drawn up some distance from the front of +the house, and the chauffeur had left it unattended. + +She looked round; there was nobody in sight; then all her energies +awakened, and she sprang into the driver’s seat and pressed the plug +of the starter. With a whine and a splutter the engines started up, +and she sent the car flying down the drive--but here was an obstacle. +The iron gates at the end were closed, and she remembered that the +chauffeur had had to get down to unlock them. There was no time to be +lost. She backed the car, then sent it full speed at the gates. There +was a smashing of glass, a crash as the gates broke, and she was in +the road with a damaged radiator, lamps twisted beyond recognition, +and a mudguard that hung in shreds. But the car was moving, and she +set it spinning in the direction of London. + +The hall porter of the flats in which she lived did not recognise her, +she looked so wild and changed. + +“Aren’t you well, miss?” he asked as he took her up in the lift. + +She shook her head. + +Once behind the door of her flat she went straight to the telephone +and gave a number, and to the man who answered, she poured forth such +a wild, incoherent story, a story so punctuated by sobs, that he found +it difficult to discover exactly what had happened. + +“I’m through, I’m through,” she gasped. “I can do no more! I will do +no more! It was horrible, horrible!” + +She hung up the receiver, and staggered to her room, feeling that she +was going to faint unless she took tight hold of herself; hours passed +before she was normal. + +And it was in that condition that Mr. Derrick Yale found her when he +called that evening--her old calm, insolent self. + +“This is an unexpected honour,” she said coolly, “and who is your +friend?” + +She looked at the man who was standing behind Yale. + +“Thalia Drummond,” said Yale sternly. “I have a warrant for your +arrest.” + +“Again?” she raised her eyebrows. “I seem always to be in the hands of +the police. What is the charge?” + +“Attempted murder,” said Yale. “The attempted murder of Mr. Raphael +Willings. I caution you that what you now say may be taken down, and +used in evidence against you.” + +The second man stepped forward and took her arm. + +Thalia Drummond spent that night in the cells of Marylebone Police +Station. + + + + + Chapter XXXIX. + A Prison Diet + +“As to what happened, I have yet to learn,” said Derrick Yale to a +silent but attentive Inspector Parr. “I arrived at Onslow Gardens just +after Willings had taken the girl away. The servants at the house were +rather reluctant about giving me information, but I soon discovered +that she had been taken to Willings’s house in the country. Whether +she enticed him or he lured her is a matter for discovery. Probably he +is under the impression that she went against her will. All along I +have suspected Thalia Drummond as being something more than a servant +of the Crimson Circle; naturally I was a little alarmed and flew off +to Thetfield, arriving at the house just after she had left. She +escaped in Willings’s car, smashing the lodge gates _en route_; by the +way--that girl has got nerve.” + +“How is Willings?” + +“He will recover; the wound is superficial, but what is significant is +the proof that the crime was premeditated. Willings only missed the +dagger with which he was stabbed this afternoon, after he had left the +girl alone in his armoury whilst he put on his overcoat. He thinks she +must have carried it in her muff, and that, of course, is very likely. +He gives me no very clear account of what were the events which +immediately preceded the stabbing.” + +“H’m,” said Inspector Parr. “What sort of a room was it? I mean, the +room where this nearly--occurred?” + +“A pretty little drawing-room communicating with what Willings calls +his Turkish room. It is a marvellous replica of an Eastern interior, +and I should imagine the scene of more or less disreputable +happenings--Willings hasn’t the best of reputations. It is only +separated from the drawing-room by a curtain, and it was near the +curtain that he was found.” + +Mr. Parr was so absorbed in his meditation that his companion thought +he had gone to sleep. But the inspector was not asleep; he was very +wide awake. He was conscious of the appalling fact that once more +whatever kudos attached to the latest of the Crimson Circle’s outrages +went to his companion, and yet he did not grudge him the honour. + +Without warning he delivered himself of a sentiment which seemed to +have no bearing whatever upon the matter they were discussing. + +“All great criminals come to grief through trifling errors of +judgment,” he said oracularly. + +Yale smiled. + +“The error of judgment in this case, I presume, being that they didn’t +kill our friend Willings--he is not a nice man, and I should imagine +of all the members of the Cabinet he could best be spared. But I for +one am very grateful that these devils did not get him.” + +“I am not referring to Mr. Willings,” said Inspector Parr rising +slowly. “I am referring to a stupid little lie told me by a man who +really should have known better.” + +And with this cryptic utterance, Mr. Parr went off to break the news +to Jack Beardmore. + +It was typical of him that Jack was the first person who came to his +mind when he learnt of Thalia Drummond’s arrest. He was fond of the +boy, fonder than Jack could guess, and he knew, even better than Yale, +how heavily the weight of Thalia Drummond’s guilt would lie upon the +man who loved her. + +Jack had already received his shock. The news of the girl’s arrest had +been published in the stop-press columns of the late editions, and +when Parr arrived he was the picture of desolation. + +“She must have the best lawyers procurable,” he said quietly. “I don’t +know that I ought to take you into my confidence, Mr. Parr, because +you naturally will be on the other side.” + +“Naturally,” said the inspector, “but I’ve got a sneaking regard for +Thalia Drummond, too.” + +“You?” said Jack in astonishment. “Why, I thought----” + +“I’m human,” said the inspector. “A criminal to me is just a criminal. +I have no personal grudge against the men I have arrested. Truland, +the poisoner, whom I sent to the gallows, was one of the nicest +fellows I’ve ever met, and I got quite fond of him after a bit.” + +Jack shuddered. + +“Don’t talk of poisoners and Thalia Drummond in the same breath,” he +said testily. “Do you honestly believe she is the leading spirit of +the Crimson Circle?” + +Mr. Parr pursed his thick lips. + +“If somebody came to me and told me the Archbishop was the leading +light, I shouldn’t be surprised, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “By the time +this Crimson Circle business is settled, we are all going to have +shocks. I started my investigations prepared to believe that anybody +might be the Crimson Circle--you, or Marl, the Commissioner or Derrick +Yale, Thalia Drummond--almost anybody.” + +“And you still hold that opinion?” asked Jack with an attempt at a +smile. “For the matter of that, Mr. Parr, you yourself might be the +villain of the piece.” + +Mr. Parr did not deny the possibility. + +“Mother thinks----” he began, and this time Jack did actually laugh. + +“Your grandmother must be a remarkable personality; has she views on +the Crimson Circle?” + +The inspector nodded vigorously. + +“She always has had, since the first murder. She put her finger down +on the very spot, Mr. Beardmore, but mother always could do that sort +of thing. I’ve had my best inspirations from her; in fact, all +the----” He stopped himself. + +Jack was amused, but he was pitying, too. This man, so ill-equipped by +nature for his work, had probably won himself a high place in the +police service by dogged unimaginative persistence. In every service +men had reached near to the top with no other merit than their +seniority. It was just a little fantastic at this moment, when the +keenest brains were exercised to lay this bizarre association by the +heels, to hear this stout man talking solemnly of the advice he had +received from his grandmother! + +“I must come along and renew my acquaintance with your aunt,” said +Jack. + +“She has gone into the country,” was the reply, “and I’m all alone. A +woman comes in every morning to clean the place, but there’s nobody +there evenings--it doesn’t seem like home to me now.” + +It was a relief to Jack to get on to the subject of Mr. Parr’s +domestic affairs. Their very unimportance was a sedative to his racked +mind. He felt that an evening spent with the inspector’s knowledgeable +grandparent might even restore him to something like normality. + +Parr himself led the conversation back to more serious channels. + +“Drummond will be brought up to-morrow and remanded,” he said. + +“Is there any hope of getting bail for her?” + +Parr shook his head. + +“No. She’ll have to go to Holloway, but that won’t do her much harm,” +he said, heartlessly, as Jack thought. “It is one of the best prisons +in the country, and maybe she’ll be glad of the rest.” + +“How came Yale to arrest her? I should have thought that was your +job?” + +“I instructed him,” said Parr. “He has now the status of a regular +police officer, and as he had been in the case earlier in the day, I +thought I would let him continue it to the end.” + +Just as the inspector had foreshadowed, the police-court proceedings +of the next day were confined only to evidence of arrest, and Thalia +Drummond was remanded in custody. + +The court house was packed, and a big crowd, attracted by the +sensational character of the charge, filled all the roads approaching +the court. + +Mr. Willings was not well enough to attend, but well enough to send +his resignation to the Cabinet in response to the Prime Minister’s +suggestion, contained in a letter couched in such unpleasant +terms--and the acidulated vocabulary of the Prime Minister was +notorious--that even he, the thick-skinned Willings, was pained. + +Whatever happened, he was everlastingly disgraced; even the thick and +thin supporters of his policy would be revolted by the evidence he +must give. He had taken the girl--a comparative stranger--to his +country house, made violent love to her, and had been stabbed. There +could be no romantic version of that unpleasant story; and he heartily +cursed himself for his stupidity. + +Parr made one call upon the girl whilst she was in prison. She refused +to see him in her cell, and insisted upon the interview taking place +in the presence of a wardress. She explained her attitude when they +sat together in the big gaunt waiting-room of the gaol, he at one end +of the table and she at the other. + +“You must excuse my not seeing you in my apartment, Mr. Parr,” she +said. “But so many promising young emissaries of the Crimson Circle +have met with an untimely end through interviewing policemen in their +cells.” + +“The only one I can recall,” said Parr stolidly, “is Sibly.” + +“Who was a shining example of indiscretion.” + +She showed her even white teeth in a smile. + +“Now what do you want of me?” + +“I want you to tell me what happened when you called at Onslow +Gardens.” + +She gave him a faithful and a detailed account of that afternoon +visit. + +“When did you discover the dagger was gone?” + +“When I was looking round the room whilst Willings was putting on his +coat. How is Lothario?” + +“He’s all right,” said Parr. “I am afraid he will recover--I mean,” he +added hastily, “I am glad to say he’ll get better. Was that the first +time Willings noticed the absence of the dagger?” + +She nodded. + +“Did you carry a muff?” + +“Yes,” she said. “Is that the place where the deadly weapon was +supposed to be concealed?” + +“Did you have your muff in your hand when you went into his house at +Hatfield?” + +She thought a moment. + +“Yes,” she nodded. + +Inspector Parr rose. + +“You’re getting all the food you require?” + +“Yes: from prison,” she said emphatically. “Prison food will suit me +very well, thank you, and I do not want anybody, out of mistaken +kindness, to send in luscious dishes from outside, as I understand +prisoners on remand are allowed.” + +He scratched his chin. + +“I think you’re wise,” he said. + + + + + Chapter XL. + The Escape + +The outrage upon Raphael Willings had produced something like a +panic in the Cabinet. + +Mr. Parr learnt how profound was the concern when he returned to +head-quarters. And the Prime Minister was justified in his anxiety. +The Crimson Circle had not stated when the next blow would fall, or +upon whom. + +The inspector was sent for to Downing Street, and was closeted with +the Prime Minister for two hours. It was the first personal +consultation he had had, and it was followed by a meeting of the inner +Cabinet, a fact that was duly recorded in the newspapers. + +It was said, but without authority, that the life of the Prime +Minister had been threatened, and this statement was neither denied +nor affirmed. + +Derrick Yale, returning to his flat that night, found Inspector Parr +waiting on the door-mat. + +“Is anything wrong?” he asked quickly. + +“I want your help,” said Parr, and did not speak again until he was +sitting in a comfortable chair before the fire in Yale’s sitting room. + +“You know, Yale, that I’ve got to go, and the Prime Minister is +considering the advisability of my going a little sooner than I had +expected. There has been a Cabinet committee appointed, and they are +calling into question the methods which head-quarters are employing +and I have been asked by the Commissioner to attend an informal +meeting at the Prime Minister’s house to-morrow evening.” + +“What is the idea?” asked Yale. + +“I’m to give a sort of lecture,” said Parr gloomily, “and explain to +the members of the Cabinet the methods I have employed against the +Crimson Circle. You probably know that I have been given unusual +powers, and that I have not been asked to tell the Government all I +know. I intend doing that on Friday evening, and I want your help.” + +“My dear chap, you have it before you ask it,” said Yale warmly, and +Parr went on. + +“There is still a lot about the Crimson Circle that is a mystery to +me, but I am piecing it together. At the moment I am under the +impression that there is somebody at police head-quarters who is +working with them.” + +“That is my view, too,” said Yale quickly. “Why do you say that?” + +“Well,” said the slow Parr, “I’ll give you an instance. Young +Beardmore had a photograph that he found in his father’s papers and +this was posted to me. It arrived all right, with the seal of the +envelope intact, but when I opened it, there was a blank card. I have +since discovered that he gave that card to Thalia Drummond to post; he +swears he stood on the doorstep and watched her slip it into the +letter-box on the opposite side of the road. If that is the case, the +envelope must have been tampered with after it reached head-quarters.” + +“What kind of a photograph?” asked the other curiously. + +“It was either a picture of an execution or the condemned man +Lightman, for I think it was taken on the occasion when they tried to +execute Lightman and failed. It came to old man Beardmore the day +before his death--a great number of things seem to have happened to +the victims of the Crimson Circle the day before their death--and was +found by Jack and, as I say, sent on----” + +“By Thalia Drummond!” said Yale significantly. “My view is that you +can exonerate the people at head-quarters. This girl is deeper in the +Crimson Circle than you imagine. I searched her house to-night--that +is where I’ve been, and this is what I found.” + +He went out into the hall and returned with a brown paper parcel, +opened it, and the inspector stared. + +A gauntlet glove and a long bright-bladed knife were exposed when Yale +cut the string and stripped away the paper wrapping. + +“This glove is a fellow to that which was found in Froyant’s study. +The knife is an exact pair to the other.” + +Parr took up the gauntlet and examined it. + +“Yes, this is the left hand, and the one on Froyant’s desk was the +right,” he agreed. “It is a worn motor-glove. Who was the owner? Try +your psychometric powers, Yale.” + +“I’ve already tried,” said the other, shaking his head, “but the glove +has passed through so many hands that the impressions I receive are +very confused. At any rate, this discovery confirms the theory that +Thalia Drummond is in the business up to her neck. As to the other +matter you were speaking about,” he said, as he wrapped the knife and +glove carefully in the paper, “I shall be most happy to assist you.” + +“What I want from you,” said Parr, “is that you shall fill in the +spaces which I cannot fill,” he shook his head. “I only wish mother +could be there,” he said regretfully. + +“Mother?” said the astonished Yale. + +“My grandmother,” said Mr. Parr soberly. “The only detective in +England--bar you and I.” + +It was the first time that Derrick Yale ever had reason to suspect +that Mr. Parr possessed a sense of humour. + + * * * * * + +It was typical of that period of excitement, when the name of the +Crimson Circle was on every tongue, that sensation should follow +sensation. But probably no incident created so much excitement as that +which, in scrawling headlines, greeted Derrick Yale as, sitting in bed +sipping his tea, he read the newspaper the following morning! + +Thalia Drummond had escaped! + +People escape from prison in works of fiction; they have been known to +make a temporary get-away from dread Dartmoor, but never before in the +history of the prison service had a woman escaped from Holloway. And +yet the wardress unlocking the door of Thalia Drummond’s cell in the +morning found it empty. + +It took a great deal to shock Derrick Yale, but the news temporarily +paralysed him. He read the account of the escape word by word, and in +the end he was as mystified as ever. + +But there it was in cold print, officially admitted, and communicated +to the early morning press by the Government with unnatural haste. + + + “Owing to the unusual importance of the prisoner, and the character of + the offence alleged against her, extraordinary precautions were taken + to guard her. The patrol which usually visits the ward in which her + cell was situated, was doubled, and instead of hourly, half-hourly + visits were paid by the officers on duty. It is not customary to look + into every cell on these occasions, but at three o’clock this morning + the wardress--Mrs. Hardy--looked through the observation hole and saw + the prisoner was there. At six o’clock when the cell door was opened, + Drummond was missing. The bars of the window were intact, and the door + had not been tampered with. + + “A search of the prison grounds showed no trace of her footsteps, and + it is almost impossible that she could have escaped over the wall. It + is equally impossible that she could have left by the ordinary means, + since it would have necessitated her passing through six separate + doors, none of which had been forced, or through the gate-keeper’s + lodge, which is occupied throughout the night. + + “This new proof of the Crimson Circle’s omnipotence and extraordinary + powers is very disconcerting, coming, as it does, at a moment when the + lives of Cabinet Ministers are threatened by this mysterious gang.” + + +Yale glanced at the clock. It was half-past eleven. And then he looked +at the newspaper and saw that his servant had brought him an early +edition of one of the evening papers. He was out of bed in a second +and, not waiting for breakfast, rushed off to head-quarters, to find +Inspector Parr in a very good humour, considering all the +circumstances. + +“But this is incredible, Parr, it is impossible! She must have friends +in the prison!” + +“That is my idea entirely,” said Parr. “I told the Commissioner in the +identical words that she must have friends in the prison. Otherwise,” +he said after a pause, “how did she get out?” + +Yale looked at him suspiciously. It did not seem the moment or the +occasion for flippant talk, and Inspector Parr’s tone was undoubtedly +flippant. + + + + + Chapter XLI. + Who is The Crimson Circle? + +Yale learnt no more details than those he had already read, and took +a taxi to his city office, which he had not visited for two days. + +The escape of Thalia Drummond was a much more important affair than +Parr seemed to think. Parr! An awful thought occurred to Derrick Yale. +John Parr! That stolid, stupid-looking man--it was impossible! He +shook his head, yet put his mind resolutely to the task of piecing +together every incident in which Inspector Parr had figured, and in +the end: + +“Impossible!” he muttered again, as he walked slowly up the stairs to +his office, declining the invitation of the lift-boy. + +The first thing he noticed when he unlocked the door was that the +letter-box was empty. It was a very large letter-box, with a patent +flap device, designed so that it was impossible for an outside +pilferer to extract any of its contents. The wire cage reached almost +to the floor, and letters that came through the slot in the door had +to fall through revolving aluminium blades, which made the letter +thief’s task a hopeless one. And the letter-box was empty! There was +not so much as a tradesman’s circular. + +He closed the door quietly and went into his own room. He took no more +than a pace into the interior and then stopped. Every drawer in his +desk was open. The little steel safe by the side of the fireplace, +concealed from view by the wooden panelling, had been unlocked, and +the door was now open. He looked under the desk. There was a tiny +cupboard, which only an expert could have found, and here Derrick Yale +had kept the more intimate documents connected with the Crimson Circle +case. + +He saw nothing but a broken panel and the mark of the chisel that had +wrenched it free. + +He sat for a long time in his chair, staring out of the window. There +was no need to ask who was the artist. He could guess that. +Nevertheless, he made a few perfunctory inquiries, and the lift boy +supplied him with all the information he needed. + +“Yes, sir, your secretary has been this morning, the pretty young +lady. She came in soon after the offices were open. She was only here +about an hour, and then she left.” + +“Did she carry a bag?” + +“Yes, sir. A little bag,” said the boy. + +“Thank you,” said Derrick Yale, and went back to head-quarters, to +pour into the phlegmatic Mr. Parr’s ear a tale of rifled desk and +stolen documents. + +“Now, I’m going to tell you, Parr, what I have told nobody else, not +even the Commissioner,” said Yale. “We think of the Crimson Circle +organisation as being run by a man. I happen to know that this girl +has met the man who initiated her into the mysteries of the gang, +whatever they are. But I also know that, so far from being the master, +this mysterious gentleman in the motor-car, takes his orders, as +everybody else does, from the real centre of the organisation--which +is Thalia Drummond!” + +“Good Lord!” said the inspector. + +“You wonder why I had her in my office? I told you it was because I +thought she would bring us closer to the Circle. And I was right.” + +“But why dismiss her?” asked the other quickly. + +“Because she had done something which merited dismissal,” said Yale, +“and if I had not fired her then and there, she would have known that +I was keeping her in my office with an object. I might have saved +myself the trouble, apparently,” he smiled, “because this morning’s +work proves that she knew what my game was.” His thin, delicate face +darkened, and then he said almost sharply: “When you have told your +story to-night to the Prime Minister and his friends, I have a little +story to tell which I think will surprise you.” + +“Nothing you can say will ever surprise me,” said Mr. Parr. + +The third shock which Derrick Yale received that day came on his +return home. The first half of his surprise was to find that his +servant was out. The one woman he employed did not sleep on the +premises, but she was supposed to remain in the flat until nine +o’clock in the evening. It was exactly six when Derrick Yale came in +to find the place in darkness. + +He turned on the light and made a tour of the rooms. Apparently, the +sitting-room was the only apartment which had been disturbed, but +here, whoever the intruder had been and he could guess her name, she +had been very thorough and painstaking. It was not necessary for him +to seek out the servant and discover what had happened. She had been +called away from the house by a message purporting to come from +him--he guessed that much. And whilst she was away Thalia Drummond had +examined the contents of the flat at her leisure. + +“A clever young woman!” said Derrick without malice, for he could +admire even the genius which was employed against himself. She had +lost no time. Within twelve hours she had broken gaol, ransacked both +his office and his flat, and had removed documents which had a vital +bearing upon the Crimson Circle. + +He dressed himself leisurely, wondering what would be her next move. +Of his own he was certain. Within twenty-four hours Inspector Parr +would be a broken man. From a drawer in his dressing-room he took a +revolver, looked at it for a moment speculatively, and slipped it into +his hip pocket. There was going to be a startling and a sensational +end to the chase of the Crimson Circle, an end wholly unforeseen by +the spectators of the tragic game. + +In the wide lobby of the Prime Minister’s house he found a guest, the +excuse for whose presence he could not fathom. Jack Beardmore had +certainly been a sufferer from the activities of the Crimson Circle, +but he had no part in the latter incidents. + +“I suppose you are surprised to see me, Mr. Yale,” laughed Jack, as he +took the other’s hand, “but you’re not more surprised than I am to be +invited to a meeting of the Cabinet.” + +He chuckled. + +“Who invited you?--Parr?” + +“To be exact, the Prime Minister’s secretary. But I think Parr must +have had something to do with the invitation. Don’t you feel scared in +this company?” + +“Not very,” smiled Derrick, slapping the other on the back. + +A youthful private secretary bustled in and ushered them into the +severe drawing-room, where a dozen gentlemen were talking in two +groups. + +The Prime Minister came forward to meet the detective. + +“Inspector Parr has not arrived.” He looked questioningly at Jack. “I +presume this is Mr. Beardmore?” he said. “The inspector particularly +asked that you should be present. I suppose he has some light to throw +upon poor James Beardmore’s death--by the way, your father was a great +friend of mine.” + +The inspector came in at that moment. He wore a dress suit which had +seen better days, a low collar with an awkwardly-tied bow, and he +seemed an incongruous figure in that atmosphere of intellect and +refinement. Following him came the grey-moustached Commissioner, who +nodded curtly to his junior and led the Prime Minister aside. + +The two were engaged in a whispered conversation for a little time, +and then the colonel came across to where Yale was standing with Jack. + +“Have you any idea what sort of a lecture Parr is going to give?” he +said, a little impatiently. “I was quite under the impression that he +was making a statement by invitation, but from what the Prime Minister +tells me, it was Parr who suggested he should give the history of the +Crimson Circle. I hope he isn’t going to make a fool of himself.” + +“I don’t think he will, sir.” It was Jack’s quiet voice that had +interrupted, and the Commissioner looked at him inquiringly until Yale +introduced the young man. + +“I agree with Mr. Beardmore,” said Derrick Yale. “I have not the +slightest expectation of Mr. Parr making a fool of himself, in fact, +I think he is going to fill up a number of gaps and bridge over +seemingly irreconcilable circumstances, and I am ready to fill in a +number of spaces which he may leave blank.” + +The company seated itself, and the Prime Minister beckoned the +inspector forward. + +“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll stay where I am,” he said. “I’m not an +orator, and I should like to tell this yarn as if I were telling it to +any one of you.” + +He cleared his throat and began speaking. At first his words were +hesitant and he paused again and again to find the right phrase, but +as he warmed to his subject he spoke more quickly and lucidly. + +“The Crimson Circle,” he began, “is a man named Lightman, a criminal +who committed several murders in France, was condemned to death, but +was saved by an accident from execution. His full name is Ferdinand +Walter Lightman, and on the date of his attempted execution his age +was twenty-three years and four months. He was transported to Cayenne, +and escaped from that settlement after murdering a warder, and it is +believed got away to Australia. A man answering his description, but +giving another name, was working for a storekeeper in Melbourne for +eighteen months, and was afterwards in the employment of a squatter +named Macdonald for two years and five months. He left Australia in a +hurry, a warrant having been issued against him by the local police +for attempting to blackmail his employer. + +“What happened to him subsequently we have not been able to trace +until there appeared in England an unknown and mysterious blackmailer +who signed himself the Crimson Circle, and who, by careful +organisation and a display of remarkable patience and energy, gathered +around him a large number of assistants, all of whom were unknown to +one another. His _modus operandi_” (the inspector stumbled at the +phrase) “was to find out somebody in a responsible position, who was +either in need of money or in fear of prosecution for some offence +which he or she had committed. He made the most careful inquiries +before he approached his recruit, who was finally interviewed in a +closed car driven by the Crimson Circle himself. Usually the +rendezvous was one of the London squares which had the advantage of +having four or five exits and a further advantage of being poorly +lighted. You gentlemen are probably aware that the residential squares +of London are the worst illuminated streets in the metropolis. + +“Another class of recruit the Crimson Circle was very eager to secure +was the convicted criminal. In this way he dragged in Sibly, an +ex-sailor of a particularly low intelligence, who was already +suspected of having committed murder, and who was the very man for the +Crimson Circle’s purpose. In this way he secured Thalia Drummond----” +he paused--“a thief, and an associate of thieves. In this way, too, he +found the black man who murdered the railway director. For his own +purpose he put in Brabazon the banker, and would have taken Felix Marl +only, unfortunately for Marl, they had been associated together in the +very crime for which Lightman nearly lost his life. More unfortunate +still, Marl recognised Lightman when he met him in England, and this +is the reason why Marl was eventually destroyed, the murderer +employing perhaps the most ingenious method that has ever been used by +a homicidal criminal. + +“You can well understand, gentlemen,” he went on. They were following +the little man with strained interest. “The Crimson Circle----” + +“Why did he call himself Crimson Circle?” It was Derrick Yale who +asked the question, and for a little while the inspector was silent. + +“He called himself Crimson Circle,” he said slowly, “because it was a +name he had amongst his fellow convicts. About his neck was a red +birth-mark--and I’ll blow the top of your head off if you move!” + +The heavy calibre Webley he held in his hand covered Derrick Yale. + +“Put your hands right up!” said the inspector, and then suddenly he +reached out his hand and tore away the high white collar which covered +Yale’s neck. + +There was a gasp. Red, blood-red, as though it were painted by human +agency, a circle of crimson ran about the throat of Derrick Yale. + + + + + Chapter XLII. + Mother + +In the room three men had mysteriously appeared--the three who had +captured Parr’s spy two nights before--and in a second Yale was +manacled hand and foot. A deft hand jerked the pistol that he carried +from his pocket, a third man dropped a cloth bag over his head and +face, and he was hurried from the room. + +Inspector Parr wiped the perspiration from his streaming forehead, and +faced his amazed audience. + +“Gentlemen,” he said a little shakily, “if you will excuse me for +to-night I will tell you the whole of this story to-morrow.” + +They surrounded him, plying him with questions, but he could only +shake his head. + +“He’s had a very bad time,” it was the colonel’s voice, “and nobody +knows it better than I. I should be very glad, Prime Minister, if you +could accede to the inspector’s request, and allow the further +explanation to stand over until to-morrow.” + +“Perhaps the inspector will lunch with us,” said the Premier, and his +Commissioner accepted on Parr’s behalf. + +Gripping Jack’s arm Parr marched from the room and into the street. A +taxi-cab was awaiting him and he bundled the young man in. + +“I feel that I’ve been dreaming,” said Jack when he had found his +voice. “Derrick Yale! Impossible! And yet----” + +“Oh, it is possible all right,” said the inspector with a little +laugh. + +“Then he and Thalia Drummond were working together?” + +“Exactly,” was the reply. + +“But, inspector, how did you get on to this story?” + +“Mother put me on to it,” was the unexpected answer. “You don’t +realise what a clever old lady mother is. She told me to-night----” + +“Then she’s come back?” + +“Yes, she’s come back,” said the inspector. “I want you to meet her. +She’s a bit dogmatic, and she is inclined to argue, but I always let +her have her way in that respect.” + +“And you may be sure I shall, too,” laughed Jack, though he did not +feel like laughing. “You really believe that the Crimson Circle is in +your hands?” + +“I am sure of it,” said the inspector. “As sure as I’m sitting in this +taxi-cab with you, and as sure as I am that grandmother is the wisest +old lady in the world.” + +Jack maintained a silence until they were turning into the avenue. + +“Then this means that Thalia is dragged a little lower?” he said +quietly. “If this man Yale is, as you believe, the Crimson Circle, he +will not spare her.” + +“I’m certain of that,” said the inspector; “but, lord bless you, Mr. +Beardmore, why trouble your head about Thalia Drummond?” + +“Because I love her, you damned fool!” said Jack savagely, and +instantly apologised. + +“I know I’m a bit of a fool,” the inspector spoke, between gusts of +laughter, “but I’m not the only one in London, Mr. Beardmore, believe +me. And if you’ll take my advice you’ll forget that Thalia Drummond +ever existed. And if you’ve got any love to spare, why, give it to +mother!” + +Jack was about to say something uncomplimentary about this paragon of +a grandmother, but suppressed his desire. + +The inspector’s maisonette was on the first floor, and he went up the +stairs ahead, opened the door and stood for a moment in the doorway. + +“Hello, mother,” he said. “I’ve brought Mr. Jack Beardmore to see +you.” + +Jack heard an exclamation. + +“Come in, Mr. Beardmore, come in and meet mother.” + +Jack stepped into the room and stood as if he had been shot. Facing +him was a smiling girl, a little pale and a little tired looking, but +undoubtedly, unless he were mad or dreaming, Thalia Drummond! + +She took his outstretched hand in hers and led him to the table, where +a meal for three was laid. + +“Daddy, you told me you were going to bring the Commissioner,” she +said reproachfully. + +“Daddy?” stammered Jack. “But you told me she was your grandmother.” + +She patted his hand. + +“Daddy has developed a sense of humour, which is very distressing,” +she said. “I’m always called ‘mother’ at home, because I’ve mothered +him ever since my own dear mother died. And that story about his +grandmother is nonsense, but you must forgive him.” + +“Your father?” said Jack. + +Thalia nodded. + +“Thalia Drummond Parr, that is my name. Thank goodness, you aren’t a +crime investigator, or you would have made inquiries and discovered my +ghastly secret. Now eat your supper, Mr. Beardmore; I cooked it +myself.” + +But Jack could neither eat nor drink until he had learnt more, and she +proceeded to enlighten him. + +“When the first of the Crimson Circle murders occurred and daddy was +put into the case, I knew that he had a tremendous work in front of +him and that the chances were he would fail. Daddy has a lot of +enemies at head-quarters, and our Commissioner asked him not to take +the case, knowing how difficult it was going to be. You see, the +Commissioner is my godfather,” she added smilingly, “and naturally he +takes an interest in our affairs. But daddy insisted, though I think +he regretted it the moment he had taken it on. I have always been +interested in police work, and just as soon as father got behind the +Crimson Circle organisation and knew the methods that the Circle +employed to gather its recruits, I decided to start upon a career of +crime. + +“Your father received the first threat three months before it was put +into execution. It was two or three days afterwards that I secured a +post as secretary to Harvey Froyant, for no other reason than that his +estate adjoined yours. He was a friend of your father, and it gave me +an opportunity of watching. I tried to get employment with your +father. Perhaps you don’t know that,” she said quietly, “but I failed. +Even more dreadful, I was in the wood when he was killed.” She +squeezed his hand sympathetically. “I didn’t see who it was who fired +the shot, but I flew forward to where your father was lying, only to +discover that he was beyond help, and then, seeing you through the +trees running across the meadows toward the wood, I thought I had +better get away. The more so,” she added, “since I had a revolver in +my hand at the time, for I had seen a man stalking in the wood and I +had gone in to investigate. + +“With the death of your father there was no longer any need for me to +remain in the service of Mr. Froyant. I wanted to get closer to the +Crimson Circle, and I knew the best way to attract the attention of +the man who controlled the gang was for me to embark on a criminal +career. It was not providential that you were passing the pawnshop +when I came out after pledging Mr. Froyant’s golden image. My father +manœuvred that, and when he described me as a thief and an associate +of crooks, it was to create an atmosphere, which would impress Derrick +Yale, or Ferdinand Walter Lightman, to give him his real name. There +was no danger of my being sent to prison. The magistrate treated me as +a first offender, but my reputation was gone, and immediately after, +as I expected, I received a summons to meet the head of the Crimson +Circle. + +“I met him one night in Steyne Square. I think daddy was watching me +all the time and shadowed me back to the house. He was never far away, +were you, darling?” + +“Only at Barnet,” he shook his head. “I was scared there, mother.” + +“My first task as a member of the Crimson Circle was to go to +Brabazon. You see, Yale’s method was to set one member to spy upon +another. Mr. Brabazon puzzled me. I was never quite sure whether he +was straight or crooked, and of course I had no idea at first that he +was a member of the gang. I had to begin stealing again in order to +sustain my character. It brought down on me a reprimand from my +mysterious chief, but it served a useful purpose, for it brought me +into contact with a gang of crooks and led unconsciously to my being +present in Marisburg Place when Felix Marl also died. + +“Yale’s object in employing me was to divert suspicion from himself. +Besides which, he had intended a very pretty ending to my youthful +life. The night he killed Froyant I was ordered to be in the vicinity +of the house with a similar knife and the fellow gauntlet to that +which Yale used himself in his dreadful crime.” + +“But how did you escape from prison?” asked Jack. + +She looked at him with amusement in her eyes. + +“You dear boy,” she said, “how could I escape from prison? I was let +out by the governor in the middle of the night and escorted to my home +by a respectable inspector of police!” + +“We wanted to force Yale’s hand, you see,” explained Parr. “As soon as +he knew that mother was out he got rattled and began to hurry his +preparations for flight. When he found that his office had been +burgled he was pretty sure that Thalia was something more than he had +dreamt she was.” + + + + + Chapter XLIII. + The Story Continued + +Jack went to the luncheon party the next day and so, too, did +Thalia, who had played such a part, and was the public heroine of the +hour. After lunch the inspector completed his story. + +“If you take your minds back, gentlemen, you will remember that the +name of Derrick Yale had never been heard until the first of the +Crimson Circle murders. It is true that he had established himself in +a city office, that he had issued circulars, had put advertisements in +the paper describing himself as a psychometric detective, but the +cases which came to him were very few. Of course, he did not want any +cases. He was working up to his big coup. It was after the first +murder, you remember, that Derrick Yale was employed by a newspaper, +which wanted a good sensational story, to employ his psychometric +powers in the tracking of the criminal. + +“Who knew better than Yale the name of the murderer and how the murder +was committed? You remember that he was able to reconstruct the crime +by feeling the weapon with which it was committed. And, in +consequence, a black man was arrested, in exactly the spot where +Derrick Yale said he would be. Naturally when these facts were +disclosed Yale’s reputation rose sky-high. It was the very situation +that he expected. He knew now that a man threatened by the Crimson +Circle would be inclined to call in his assistance, and that is just +what happened. + +“By being near his victims and gaining their confidence--for Yale was +a most convincing type of man--he was able to urge them to pay the +demands of the Crimson Circle, and if they refused he was on hand to +encompass their death. + +“Froyant might not have died, and certainly would not have died at +Yale’s hands, but for the fact that, annoyed by losing so much money, +he made inquiries himself. Starting on a hypothesis which was based +upon the faintest suspicion, he worked up the case against Derrick +Yale, and was able to identify Lightman and Derrick Yale as one and +the same person. On the night of his death he sent for us, intending +to make this disclosure, and as a proof that he was in some fear he +had two loaded revolvers by his hand, and it is well known that +Froyant disliked intensely the employment of firearms. + +“And you will remember, if you have read the official minutes of the +case, the Commissioner rang up Froyant in response to a call which +Harvey Froyant had put through. That call gave Yale his opportunity. +It was an excuse for Froyant sending us out of the room. I went first, +never dreaming that he would dare do what he did. When we went into +the room we wore our overcoats, and I particularly noticed that +Derrick Yale kept his hand in his pocket. On the hand, gentlemen,” he +said impressively, “was a motor-driver’s gauntlet, and in that hand +was the knife that slew Froyant.” + +“But why did he wear the glove?” asked the Prime Minister. + +“In order that his hand, which I should see immediately afterwards, +should not be bloodstained. The moment my back was turned, he lunged +straight at Froyant’s heart, and Froyant must have died instantly. He +slipped off the glove and left it on the table, walked to the door, +and seemed to be carrying on a conversation with a man who was already +dead. + +“I knew this had happened, but I had no proof. He had brought my +daughter there, intending to get her into the house, which we +immediately searched, with the intention of accusing her of the crime. +But she very wisely went no farther than to the back of the house and +then, suspecting his plot, went home. But I am anticipating. Amongst +the people whom we had to guard was James Beardmore, and James +Beardmore was a land speculator, a man who knew all kinds of people, +good and bad. That day he was expecting a visit from Marl, whom he had +never seen, and he mentioned Marl’s name earlier in the day to his +son, but not to Derrick Yale. As Marl came toward the house the last +person in the world he expected to see was his fellow criminal of +Toulouse Gaol, a man whom he had betrayed to his death. + +“Derrick Yale must have been standing at the end of the shrubbery, and +Marl caught a momentary glimpse of him and went back to the village, +ostensibly to London, in a panic of fright, determined, in his fear, +that he would kill Lightman before Lightman killed him. His courage +must have oozed. He was not a particularly brave man, and instead he +wrote a letter to Yale, pushing it under his window--a letter which +Yale read and partially burnt. What the letter was I cannot tell you, +except it was probably a statement that if he, Marl, was left alone, +he would leave Yale alone. He could not have known in what capacity +Mr. Derrick Yale was posing. The words ‘Block B’ undoubtedly referred +to the Block at Toulouse Prison. + +“From that moment Marl was a doomed man. He was conducting a little +blackmail of his own with Brabazon, an agent of the Crimson Circle, +and Brabazon must have intimated the danger to Yale who, in his +capacity as detective, visited the shop to which all the Crimson +Circle letters were addressed, and on the pretext of aiding justice +opened them of course and saw their contents, without having the +responsibility of being the person to whom they were addressed. + +“It was Brabazon’s intention to bolt on the day following Marl’s +murder, and with that object he had cleared out the whole of Marl’s +balance and had made preparations for flight. On Marl’s death +suspicion naturally fell upon him and, intimated by the Crimson Circle +that he was in danger, he hurried off to the riverside house which we +searched.” + +Detective-Inspector Parr chuckled. + +“When I say ‘we searched it,’ I mean Yale searched it. In other words, +he went into the room where he knew Brabazon was, and came down +reporting that all was clear.” + +“There is one point I’d like you to clear up--the chloroforming of +Yale in his office,” said the Prime Minister. + +“That was clever, and deceived me for a moment. Yale handcuffed, +strapped and chloroformed himself after he had put the money in an +envelope and dropped it down the letter-chute--it was addressed to his +private residence. Do you remember, sir, that the postman left the +building, having cleared the box, a few minutes after the ‘outrage’? +Unfortunately for Yale, I had let Thalia into the room and put her +into the cupboard, where she witnessed the whole comedy and retrieved +the chloroform bottle which he had put into a drawer of his desk.” + +“The last victim, Mr. Raphael Willings,” here Parr spoke very clearly +and deliberately, “owes his life to the fact that he conceived an +unhealthy attachment for my daughter. She was struggling with him, +when, looking over her shoulder, she saw a hand come from behind the +curtain holding the very knife that had been stolen earlier in the day +by Yale (again in his capacity as detective). It was aimed at Mr. +Willings’s heart, but by a superhuman effort, she thrust him aside, +but not so far as to save him completely. Yale, of course, was on hand +to discover the outrage (I should imagine he was very annoyed when he +found it was not a murder), and of course he had no difficulty in +fixing it upon mother--upon Thalia Drummond Parr. + +“Consider the cleverness of his operations!” said Parr admiringly. “He +had thrust himself into the front rank of private detectives, so that +he was on hand to receive information which was invaluable to him as +the Crimson Circle. He was eventually taken to police +head-quarters--at my suggestion--where the most important documents +came under his notice. Some of them were not quite as important as he +thought, but it saved Mr. Beardmore’s life when Yale had the first +handling of a photograph of himself taken a few moments before the +abortive execution. + +“Now, gentlemen, are there any other points that you wish cleared up? +There is one I will clear up which is probably not obscure. Two days +ago I told Yale that great criminals are usually brought to their end +through ridiculous mistakes. Yale had the effrontery to tell me that +he had called at Mr. Willings’s house after he had left and that the +servants had told him where Thalia and Willings had gone. That alone +was sufficient to damn him, because he had not been near Willings’s +house since the morning, and had arrived at the country place at least +an hour before the servants had come.” + +“The question that disturbs me for the moment,” said the Prime +Minister, “is what reward we can give to your daughter, Mr. Parr? Your +promotion is of course an easy matter to arrange, for there is an +assistant-commissionership vacant at this moment; but I don’t exactly +see what we can do for Miss Drummond, except of course to give her the +monetary reward which is due for having brought about the capture of +this dangerous criminal.” + +Then a husky voice spoke. It sounded to Jack as though it were his, +and the rest of the people about the table seemed to be under the same +impression. + +“There is no need to bother about Miss Parr,” said this strange voice, +that was speaking Jack’s thoughts, “we are getting married very soon.” + +When the buzz of congratulation had subsided, Inspector Parr leant +toward his daughter. + +“You didn’t tell me, mother,” he said reproachfully. + +“I didn’t even tell him,” she said, looking at Jack wonderingly. + +“Do you mean to say he hasn’t asked you to marry him?” demanded her +amazed father. + +She shook her head. + +“No,” she said, “and I haven’t told him I would marry him either, but +I had a feeling that something like this would happen.” + + * * * * * + +Lightman, or Yale, as he was best known, was an exemplary prisoner. +His only complaint against the authorities was that they would not let +him smoke on his way to his execution. + +“They order these things much better in France,” he said to the +governor. “Now, the last time I was executed----” + +To the chaplain he expressed the warmest interest in Thalia Drummond. + +“There is a girl in a million!” he said. “I suppose she will marry +young Beardmore--he is a very lucky fellow. Personally, women arouse +very little enthusiasm in me, and I ascribe my success in life to this +fact. But if I were a marrying man, I think Thalia Drummond would be +the very type I should search for.” + +He liked the chaplain because the padre was a big human man who could +talk interestingly on places and things and people, and Derrick Yale +had seen most of the fascinating places in the world. + +On a grey March morning a man came into his cell and strapped his +hands. + +Yale looked at him over his shoulder. + +“Have you ever heard of M. Pallion? He was a member of your +profession.” + +The executioner did not reply, being by etiquette forbidden to discuss +other matters than the prisoner’s forgiveness for the deed which was +about to be committed. + +“You should find out something about Pallion,” said Yale, as the +procession formed, “and profit by his example. Never drink. Drink was +my ruin! If it were not for drink I should not be here!” + +This little conceit kept him amused all the way to the scaffold. They +slipped the noose about his neck and covered his face with a white +cloth, and then the executioner stepped back to the steel lever. + +“I hope this rope won’t break,” said Derrick Yale. + +It was the last message from the Crimson Circle. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. court-house/court house, +fireplace/fire-place, jailor/jailer, etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Fix a couple quotation mark pairings. + +[Chapter I] + +Change “The _dèbris_ of the dead autumn whirled in fantastic +circles” to _débris_. + +[Chapter III] + +(in her even tone. “_something_ which you haven’t realised.) to +_Something_. + +[Chapter IX] + +(“_Mr_ Beardmore,” she said in a low voice, “you are just being) to +_Mr._ + +[Chapter XXXI] + +(“Good morning, Miss Drummond,”) change the second comma to a period. + +[Chapter XXXII] + +“which was found afterwards to contain the poison,” change comma to a +period. + +[Chapter XXXV] + +“and realising the absurdity of his protest, laughed,” change the +second comma to a period. + +[Chapter XLIII] + +(as the procession formed. “and profit by his example.) change the +first period to a comma. + +“Never drink, Drink was my ruin! If it were not for drink” change +the first comma to a period. + + [End of text] + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76257 *** diff --git a/76257-h/76257-h.htm b/76257-h/76257-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..520f7e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/76257-h/76257-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13954 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The crimson circle | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + .spacer {margin:0.5em 0em 0.5em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + + hr {margin:1em auto 1em auto; text-align:center; width:20%;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .chap_sub {font-size:80%;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + .stanza {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-indent:0em;} + .i0 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i1 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 3em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i2 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 4em; text-indent:-2em;} + .i3 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 5em; text-indent:-2em;} + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt6 {margin-top:6em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76257 ***</div> + +<h1> +THE<br> +CRIMSON CIRCLE +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +EDGAR WALLACE +</p> + +<p class="center mt6"> +HODDER AND STOUGHTON LTD +</p> + + +<h2> +[DEDICATION] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +TO<br> +BRYAN +</p> + +<p class="mt6"> +<i>All the characters represented in this book are purely imaginary.</i> +</p> + + +<h2> +Contents +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch00">Prologue. The Nail</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">Chapter I. The Initiation</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">Chapter II. The Man Who Did Not Pay</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">Chapter III. The Girl Who Was Indifferent</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">Chapter IV. Mr. Felix Marl</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">Chapter V. The Girl Who Ran</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">Chapter VI. “Thalia Drummond is a Crook”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">Chapter VII. The Stolen Idol</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">Chapter VIII. The Charge</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">Chapter IX. Thalia in the Police Court</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">Chapter X. The Summons of The Crimson Circle</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">Chapter XI. The Confession</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">Chapter XII. The Pointed Boots</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">Chapter XIII. Mr. Marl Squeezes a Little More</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">Chapter XIV. Thalia is Asked Out</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">Chapter XV. Thalia Joins the Gang</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">Chapter XVI. Mr. Marl Goes Out</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">Chapter XVII. The Blower of Bubbles</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">Chapter XVIII. “Flush” Barnet’s Story</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">Chapter XIX. Thalia Accepts an Offer</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">Chapter XX. The Key of River House</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">Chapter XXI. River House</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">Chapter XXII. The Messenger of The Circle</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">Chapter XXIII. The Woman in the Cupboard</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">Chapter XXIV. £10,000 Reward</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">Chapter XXV. The Tenant of River House</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">Chapter XXVI. The Bottle of Chloroform</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">Chapter XXVII. Mr. Parr’s Mother</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">Chapter XXVIII. A Shot in the Night</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">Chapter XXIX. “The Red Circle”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">Chapter XXX. The Silencing of Froyant</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">Chapter XXXI. Thalia Answers a Few Questions</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">Chapter XXXII. A Trip to the Country</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">Chapter XXXIII. The Posters</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch34">Chapter XXXIV. Blackmailing a Government</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch35">Chapter XXXV. Thalia Lunches with a Cabinet Minister</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch36">Chapter XXXVI. The Circle Meets</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch37">Chapter XXXVII. “I Will See You—If You Are Alive”</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch38">Chapter XXXVIII. The Arrest of Thalia</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch39">Chapter XXXIX. A Prison Diet</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch40">Chapter XL. The Escape</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch41">Chapter XLI. Who is The Crimson Circle?</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch42">Chapter XLII. Mother</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch43">Chapter XLIII. The Story Continued</a> +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch00"> +Prologue.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Nail</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> is a ponderable fact that had not the 29th of a certain September +been the anniversary of Monsieur Victor Pallion’s birth, there would +have been no Crimson Circle mystery; a dozen men, now dead, would in +all probability be alive, and Thalia Drummond would certainly never +have been described by a dispassionate inspector of police as “a thief +and the associate of thieves.” +</p> + +<p> +M. Pallion entertained his three assistants to dinner at the Coq d’Or +in the city of Toulouse, and the proceedings were both joyous and +amiable. At three o’clock in the morning it dawned upon M. Pallion +that the occasion of his visit to Toulouse was the execution of an +English malefactor named Lightman. +</p> + +<p> +“My children,” he said gravely but unsteadily, “it is three hours and +the ‘red lady’ has yet to be assembled!” +</p> + +<p> +So they adjourned to the place before the prison where a trolley +containing the essential parts of the guillotine had been waiting +since midnight, and with a skill born of practice they erected the +grisly thing, and fitted the knife into its proper slots. +</p> + +<p> +But even mechanical skill is not proof against the heady wines of +southern France, and when they tried the knife it did not fall truly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will arrange this,” said M. Pallion, and drove a nail into the +frame at exactly the place where a nail should not have been driven. +</p> + +<p> +But he was getting flurried, for the soldiers had marched on to the +ground.… +</p> + +<p> +Four hours later (it was light enough for an enterprising photographer +to snap the prisoner close at hand), they marched a man from the +prison.… +</p> + +<p> +“Courage!” murmured M. Pallion. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to hell!” said the victim, now lying strapped upon the plank. +</p> + +<p> +M. Pallion pulled a handle and the knife fell… but only as far as the +nail. +</p> + +<p> +Three times he tried and three times he failed, and then the indignant +spectators broke through the military cordon, and the prisoner was +taken back into the gaol. +</p> + +<p> +Eleven years later that nail killed many people. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch01"> +Chapter I.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Initiation</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was an hour when most respectable citizens were preparing for +bed, and the upper windows of the big, old-fashioned houses in the +square showed patches of light, against which the outlines of the +leafless trees, bending and swaying under the urge of the gale, were +silhouetted. A cold wind was sweeping up the river, and its outriders +penetrated icily into the remotest and most sheltered places. +</p> + +<p> +The man who paced slowly by the high iron railings shivered, though he +was warmly clad, for the unknown had chosen a rendezvous which seemed +exposed to the full blast of the storm. +</p> + +<p> +The débris of the dead autumn whirled in fantastic circles about his +feet, the twigs and leaves came rattling down from the trees which +threw their long gaunt arms above him, and he looked enviously at the +cheerful glow in the windows of a house where, did he but knock, he +would be received as a welcome guest. +</p> + +<p> +The hour of eleven boomed out from a nearby clock, and the last stroke +was reverberating when a car came swiftly and noiselessly into the +square and halted abreast of him. The two head-lamps burned dimly. +Within the closed body there was no spark of light. After a moment’s +hesitation the waiting man stepped to the car, opened the door, and +got in. He could only guess the outline of the driver’s figure in the +seat ahead, and he felt a curious thumping of heart as he realised the +terrific importance of the step he had taken. The car did not move, +and the man in the driver’s seat remained motionless. For a little +time there was a dead silence, which was broken by the passenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked nervously, almost irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you decided?” asked the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Should I be here if I hadn’t?” demanded the passenger. “Do you think +I’ve come out of curiosity? What do you want of me? Tell me that, and +I will tell you what I want of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what you want of me,” said the driver. His voice was muffled +and indistinct, as one who spoke behind a veil. +</p> + +<p> +When the newcomer’s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he detected the +vague outline of the black silk cowl which covered the driver’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“You are on the verge of bankruptcy,” the driver went on. “You have +used money which was not yours to use, and you are contemplating +suicide. And it is not your insolvency which makes you consider this +way out. You have an enemy who has discovered something to your +discredit, something which would bring you into the hands of the +police. Three days ago you obtained from a firm of manufacturing +chemists, a member of which is a friend of yours, a particularly +deadly drug, which cannot be obtained from a retail chemist. You have +spent a week reading up poisons and their effects, and it is your +intention, unless something turns up which will save you from ruin, to +end your life either on Saturday or Sunday. I think it will be +Sunday.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard the man behind him gasp, and laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, sir,” said the driver, “are you prepared for a consideration to +act for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want me to do?” demanded the man behind him shakily. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask no more than that you should carry out my instructions. I will +take care that you run no risks and that you are well paid. I am +prepared at this moment to place in your hands a very large sum of +money, which will enable you to meet your more pressing obligations. +In return for this I shall want you to put into circulation all the +money I send you, to make the necessary exchanges, to cover up the +trail of bills and bank-notes, the numbers of which are known to the +police; to dispose of bonds, which I cannot dispose of, and generally +to act as my agent——” he paused, adding significantly, “and to pay +on demand what I ask.” +</p> + +<p> +The man behind him did not reply for some time, and then he asked with +a hint of petulance: +</p> + +<p> +“What is the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +“You,” was the startling reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I?” gasped the man. +</p> + +<p> +“You are of the Crimson Circle,” said the other carefully. “You have a +hundred comrades, none of whom will ever be known to you, none of whom +will ever know you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know them all,” said the driver. “You agree?” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree,” said the other after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +The driver half-turned in his seat and held out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Take this,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“This” was a large, bulky envelope, and the newly initiated member of +the Crimson Circle thrust it into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“And now get out,” said the driver curtly, and the man obeyed without +question. +</p> + +<p> +He slammed the door behind him and walked abreast of the driver. He +was still curious as to his identity, and for his own salvation it was +necessary that he should know the man who drove. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t light your cigar here,” said the driver, “or I shall think that +your smoking is really an excuse to strike a match. And remember this, +my friend, that the man who knows me, carries his knowledge to hell.” +</p> + +<p> +Before the other could reply the car moved on and the man with the +envelope stood watching its red tail light until it disappeared from +view. +</p> + +<p> +He was shaking from head to foot, and when he did light the cigar +which his chattering teeth gripped, the flame of the match quivered +tremulously. +</p> + +<p> +“That is that,” he said huskily, and crossed the road, to disappear in +one of the side-turnings. +</p> + +<p> +He was scarcely out of sight before a figure moved stealthily from the +doorway of a dark house and followed. It was the figure of a man tall +and broad, and he walked with difficulty, for he was naturally short +of breath. He had gone a hundred paces in his pursuit before he +realised that he still held in his hand the ship’s binoculars through +which he had been watching. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the main street his quarry had vanished. He had +expected as much and was not perturbed. He knew where to find him. But +who was in the car? He had read the number and could trace its owner +in the morning. Mr. Felix Marl grinned. Had he so much as guessed the +character of the interview he had overlooked, he would not have been +amused. Stronger men than he had grown stiff with fear at the menace +of the Crimson Circle. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch02"> +Chapter II.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Man Who Did Not Pay</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Philip Bassard</span> paid, and lived, for apparently the Crimson Circle +kept faith; Jacques Rizzi, the banker, also paid, but in a panic. He +died from natural causes a month later, having a weak heart. Benson, +the railway lawyer, pooh-poohed the threat and was found dead by the +side of his private saloon. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Derrick Yale, with his amazing gifts, ran down the coloured man +who had crept into Benson’s private car and killed him before he threw +the body from the window, and the coloured man was hanged, without, +however, revealing the identity of his employer. The police might +sneer at Yale’s psychometrical powers—as they did—but within +forty-eight hours he had led the police to the crimp’s house at +Yareside and the dazed murderer had confessed. +</p> + +<p> +Following this tragedy many men must have paid without reporting the +matter to the police, for there was a long period during which no +reference to the Crimson Circle found its way into the newspapers. And +then one morning there came to the breakfast table of James Beardmore, +a square envelope containing a card, on which was stamped a Crimson +Circle. +</p> + +<p> +“You are interested in the melodrama of life, Jack—read that.” +</p> + +<p> +James Stamford Beardmore tossed the message across the table to his +son and proceeded to open the next letter in the pile which stood +beside his plate. +</p> + +<p> +Jack retrieved the message from the floor, where it had fallen, and +examined it with a little frown. It was a very ordinary letter-card, +save that it bore no address. A big circle of crimson touched its four +edges and had the appearance of having been printed with a rubber +stamp, for the ink was unevenly distributed. In the centre of the +circle, written in printed characters, were the words: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>One hundred thousand represents only a small portion of your +possessions. You will pay this in notes to a messenger I will send in +response to an advertisement in the ‘Tribune’ within the next +twenty-four hours, stating the exact hour convenient to you. This is +the final warning.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +There was no signature. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +Old Jim Beardmore looked up over his spectacles and his eyes were +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle!” gasped his son. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore laughed aloud at the concern in the boy’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the Crimson Circle—I have had four of ’em!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Four?” he repeated. “Good heavens! Is that why Yale has been staying +with us?” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a reason,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I knew that he was a detective, but I hadn’t the slightest +idea——” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry about this infernal circle,” interrupted his father a +little impatiently. “I’m not scared of them. Froyant is in terror of +his life that he will be marked down. And I don’t wonder. He and I +have made a few enemies in our time.” +</p> + +<p> +James Beardmore, with his hard, lined face and his stubbly grey beard, +might have been mistaken for the grandfather of the good-looking young +man who sat opposite to him. The Beardmore fortune had been painfully +won. It had materialised from the wreckage of dreams and had its +beginnings in the privations, the dangers and the heartaches of a +prospector’s life. This man whom Death had stalked on the waterless +plains of the Kalahari, who had scraped in the mud of the Vale River +for illusory diamonds, and thawed out his claim in the Klondyke, had +faced too many real dangers to be greatly disturbed by the threat of +the Crimson Circle. For the moment his perturbation was based on a +more tangible peril, not to himself, but to his son. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a whole lot of faith in your good sense, Jack,” he said, “so +don’t be hurt by anything I’m going to say. I’ve never interfered in +your amusements or questioned your judgment—but—do you think that +you’re being wise just now?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack understood. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean about Miss Drummond, father?” +</p> + +<p> +The older man nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s Froyant’s secretary,” began the youth. +</p> + +<p> +“I know she is Froyant’s secretary,” said the other, “and she’s none +the worse for that. But the point is, Jack, do you know anything more +about her?” +</p> + +<p> +The young man rolled his napkin deliberately. His face was red and +there was a queer set look about his jaw which secretly amused Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“I like her. She is a friend of mine. I’ve never made love to her, if +that is what you mean, dad, and I rather think our friendship would be +at an end if I did.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim nodded. He had said all that was necessary and now he took up a +more bulky envelope and looked at it curiously. Jack saw that it bore +French postage stamps and wondered who was the correspondent. +</p> + +<p> +Tearing open the flap, the old man took out a pad of correspondence, +which included yet another envelope heavily sealed. He read the +superscription and his nose wrinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“Ugh!” he said, and put the envelope down unopened. He glanced through +the remainder of the correspondence, then looked across at his son. +</p> + +<p> +“Never trust a man or woman until you know the worst of them,” he +said. “I’ve got a man coming to see me to-day who is a respectable +member of society. He has a record as black as my hat and yet I’m +going to do business with him—I know the worst!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughed. Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of +their guest. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Yale—did you sleep well?” asked the old man. “Ring for +some more coffee, Jack.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale’s visit had been an unmixed pleasure to Jack Beardmore. +He was at the age when romance had its full appeal and the +companionship of the most commonplace detective would have brought him +a peculiar joy. But the glamour which surrounded Yale was the glamour +of the supernatural. This man had unusual and peculiar qualities which +made him unique. The delicate æsthetic face, the grave mystery of his +eyes, the very gesture of his long, sensitive hands, were part of his +uniqueness. +</p> + +<p> +“I never sleep,” he said good-humouredly as he unrolled his serviette. +He held the silver napkin ring for a second between his two fingers, +and James Beardmore watched him with amusement. As for Jack, his eager +admiration was unconcealed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Who handled this last has had very bad news—some near relation is +desperately ill.” +</p> + +<p> +Beardmore nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Jane Higgins was the servant who laid the table,” he said. “She had a +letter this morning saying that her mother was dying.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“And you felt that in the serviette ring?” he asked in amazement. “How +do you get that impression, Mr. Yale?” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t attempt to explain,” he said quietly. “All that I know is +that the moment I took up my serviette I had a sensation of profound +and poignant sorrow. It is weird, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you know about her mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“I traced it somehow,” said the other almost brusquely; “it is a +matter of deduction. Have you any news, Mr. Beardmore?” +</p> + +<p> +For answer Jim handed him the card he had received that morning. +</p> + +<p> +Yale read the message, then weighed the card on the palm of his white +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Posted by a sailor,” he said, “a man who has been in prison and has +recently lost a great deal of money.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Which I shall certainly not replace,” he said, rising from the table. +“Do you take these warnings seriously?” +</p> + +<p> +“I take them very seriously,” said Derrick in his quiet way. “So +seriously that I do not advise you to leave this house except in my +company. The Crimson Circle,” he went on, arresting Beardmore’s +indignant protest with a characteristic gesture, “is, I admit, +vulgarly melodramatic in its operations, but it will be no solace to +your heirs to learn that you have died theatrically.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore was silent for a time, and his son regarded him +anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you go abroad, father?” he asked, and the old man snapped +round on him. +</p> + +<p> +“Go abroad be damned!” he roared. “Run away from a cheap Black Hand +gang? I’ll see them——!” +</p> + +<p> +He did not mention their destination, but they could guess. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch03"> +Chapter III.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Girl Who Was Indifferent</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A heavy</span> weight lay on Jack Beardmore’s mind as he walked slowly +across the meadows that morning. His feet carried him instinctively in +the direction of the little valley which lay a mile from the house, +and in the exact centre of which ran the hedge which marked the +division between the Beardmore and Froyant estates. It was a glorious +morning. The storm of wind and rain which had swept the country the +night before had blown itself out, and the world lay bathed in yellow +sunlight. Far away, beyond the olive-green coverts that crowned Penton +Hill, he caught a glimpse of Harvey Froyant’s big white mansion. Would +she venture out with the ground so sodden and the grasses soaked with +rain, he wondered? +</p> + +<p> +He stopped by a big elm tree on the lip of the valley and cast an +anxious glance along the untidy hedge, until his eyes rested on a tiny +summer house which the former owners of Tower House had +erected—Harvey Froyant, who loathed solitude, would never have been +guilty of such extravagance. +</p> + +<p> +There was nobody in sight, and his heart sank. Ten minutes’ walking +brought him to the gap he had made in the fence, and he stepped +through. The girl who sat in the tiny house might have heard his sigh +of relief. +</p> + +<p> +She looked round, then rose with some evidence of reluctance. +</p> + +<p> +She was remarkably pretty, with her fair hair and flawless skin, but +there was no welcome in her eyes as she came slowly toward him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning,” she said coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Thalia,” he ventured, and her frown returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said, and he knew that she meant what she +said. Her attitude toward him puzzled and worried him. For she was a +thing of laughter and bubbling life. He had once surprised her chasing +a hare, and had watched, spellbound, the figure of this laughing Diana +as her little feet flew across the field in pursuit of the scared +beast. He had heard her singing, too, and the very joy of life was +vibrant in her voice—but he had seen her so depressed and gloomy that +he had feared she was ill. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you always so stiff and formal with me?” he grumbled. +</p> + +<p> +For a second a ghost of a smile showed at the corner of her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’ve read books,” she said solemnly, “and poor girl +secretaries who aren’t stiff and formal with millionaire’s sons +usually come to a bad end!” +</p> + +<p> +She had a trick of directness which was very disconcerting. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” she said, “there is no reason why I shouldn’t be stiff and +formal. It is the conventional attitude which people adopt toward +their fellow creatures, unless they are very fond of them, and I’m not +very fond of you.” +</p> + +<p> +She said this calmly and deliberately, and the young man’s face went +red. He felt a fool, and cursed himself for provoking this act of +cruelty. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you something, Mr. Beardmore,” she went on in her even +tone. “Something which you haven’t realised. When a boy and girl are +thrown together on a desert island, it is only natural that the boy +gets the idea that the girl is the only girl in the world. All his +wayward fancies are concentrated on one woman and as the days pass she +grows more and more wonderful in his eyes. I’ve read a lot of these +desert island stories, and I’ve seen a lot of pictures that deal with +that interesting situation, and that is how it strikes me. You are on +a desert island here—you spend too much time on your estate, and the +only things you see are rabbits and birds and Thalia Drummond. You +should go into the city and into the society of people of your own +station.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned from him with a nod, for she had seen her employer +approaching, had watched him out of the corner of her eye as he +stopped to survey them, and had guessed his annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you were doing the house accounts, Miss Drummond,” he said +with asperity. +</p> + +<p> +He was a skinny man, in the early fifties, colourless, sharp-featured, +prematurely bald. He had an unpleasant habit of baring his long yellow +teeth when he asked a question, a grimace which in some curious way +suggested his belief that the answer would be an evasion. +</p> + +<p> +“Morning, Beardmore,” he jerked the salutation grudgingly and turned +again to his secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like to see you wasting your time, Miss Drummond,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not wasting either your time or mine, Mr. Froyant,” she answered +calmly. “I have finished the accounts—here!” She tapped the worn +leather portfolio which was under her arm. +</p> + +<p> +“You could have done the work in my library,” he complained; “there is +no need to go into the wilderness.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and rubbed his long nose and glanced from the girl to the +silent young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good; that will do,” he said. “I am going to see your father, +Beardmore. Perhaps you will walk with me?” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia was already on her way to Tower House, and Jack had no excuse +for lingering. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t occupy that girl’s time, Beardmore, don’t, please,” said +Froyant testily. “You’ve no idea how much she has to do—and I’m sure +your father wouldn’t like it.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was on the point of saying something offensive, but checked +himself. He loathed Harvey Froyant, and at the moment hated him for +his domineering attitude toward the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“That class of girl,” began Mr. Froyant, turning to walk by the side +of the hedge toward the gate at the end of the valley, “that class of +girl——” he stood still and stared. “Who the devil has broken through +the hedge?” he demanded, pointing with his stick. +</p> + +<p> +“I did,” said Jack savagely. “It is our hedge, anyway, and it saves +half a mile—come on, Mr. Froyant.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey Froyant made no comment as he stepped gingerly through the +hedge. +</p> + +<p> +They walked slowly up the hill toward the big elm tree where Jack had +stood looking down into the valley. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Harvey Froyant preserved a tight-lipped silence. He was a stickler +for the conventions, where their observations benefited himself. +</p> + +<p> +They had reached the crest of the rise, when suddenly his arm was +gripped, and he turned to see Jack Beardmore, staring at the bole of +the tree. Froyant followed the direction of his eye and took a step +backward, his unhealthy face a shade paler. Painted on the tree trunk +was a rough circle of crimson, and the paint was yet wet. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch04"> +Chapter IV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Mr. Felix Marl</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack Beardmore</span> looked round, scanning the country. The only human +being in sight was a man who was walking slowly away from them, +carrying a bag in his hand. Jack shouted, and the man turned. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” demanded Jack. Then, “What are you doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger was a tall, stoutish man, and the exertion of carrying +his grip had left him a little breathless. It was some time before he +could reply. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Marl,” he said, “Felix Marl. You may have heard of me. I +think you are young Mr. Beardmore, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my name,” said Jack. “What are you doing here?” he asked +again. +</p> + +<p> +“They told me there was a short cut from the railway station, but it +is not so short as they promised,” said Mr. Marl, breathing +stertorously. “I’m on my way to see your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you been near that tree?” asked Jack, and Marl glared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I go near any tree?” he demanded aggressively. “I tell you +I’ve come straight across the fields.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Harvey Froyant arrived, and apparently recognised the +new-comer. +</p> + +<p> +“This is Mr. Marl; I know him. Marl, did you see anybody near that +tree?” +</p> + +<p> +The man shook his head. Apparently the tree and its secret was a +mystery to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew there was a tree there,” he said. “What—what has +happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said Harvey Froyant sharply. +</p> + +<p> +They came to the house soon after, Jack carrying the visitor’s bag. He +was not impressed by the big man’s appearance. His voice was coarse, +his manner familiar, and Jack wondered what association this uncouth +specimen of humanity could have with his father. +</p> + +<p> +They were nearing the house when suddenly and for no obvious reason +the stout Mr. Marl emitted a frightened squeal and leapt back. There +was no doubt of his fear. It was written visibly in the blanched +cheeks and the quivering lips of the man, who was shaking from head to +foot. +</p> + +<p> +Jack could only look at him in astonishment—and even Harvey Froyant +was startled into an interest. +</p> + +<p> +“What the hell is wrong with you, Marl?” he asked savagely. +</p> + +<p> +His own nerves were on edge, and the sight of the big man’s +undisguised terror was a further strain which he could scarcely +endure. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothin’—nothin’,” muttered Marl huskily. “I’ve been——” +</p> + +<p> +“Drinking, I should think,” snapped Froyant. +</p> + +<p> +After seeing the man into the house Jack hurried off in search of +Derrick Yale. He discovered the detective in the shrubbery sitting in +a big cane chair, his chin upon his breast, his arms folded, a +characteristic attitude of his. +</p> + +<p> +Yale looked up at the sound of the young man’s footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you,” he said, before Jack had framed his question, and +then, seeing the look of astonishment on his face, he laughed. “You +were going to ask me what scared Marl, weren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came with that intention,” laughed Jack. “What an extraordinary +fellow you are, Mr. Yale! Did you see his extraordinary exhibition of +funk?” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw him just before he had his shock,” he said. “You can see the +field path from here.” +</p> + +<p> +He frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“He reminds me of somebody,” he said slowly, “yet I cannot for the +life of me tell who it is. Is he a frequent visitor here? Your father +told me he was coming, and I guessed it was he.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the first time I’ve seen him,” he said. “I remember now, +though, that father and Froyant have had some business dealings with a +man named Marl—dad mentioned him one day. I think he is a land +speculator. Father is rather interested in land just now. By the way, +I have seen the mark of the Crimson Circle,” he added, and described +the newly-painted “O” he had found on the elm. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Yale lost interest in Mr. Marl. +</p> + +<p> +“It was not on the tree when I went down into the valley,” said Jack. +“I’ll swear to that. It must have been painted whilst I was talking +to—to a friend. The trunk is out of sight from the boundary fence, +and it was quite possible for somebody to have painted the sign +without being seen. What does it mean, Mr. Yale?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means trouble,” said Yale shortly. +</p> + +<p> +He rose abruptly and began pacing the flagged walk, and Jack, after +waiting a little while, left him to his meditations. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, Mr. Felix Marl was comparatively a useless third of a +conference which dealt with the transfer of lands. Marl was, as Jack +had said, a land speculator, and he had come that morning bringing a +promising proposition which he was wholly incapable of explaining. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it, gentlemen,” he said, and for the fourth time his +trembling hand rose to his lips. “I’ve had a bit of a shock this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” +</p> + +<p> +But Marl seemed incapable of explanation. He could only shake his head +helplessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not fit to discuss things calmly,” he said. “You’ll have to put +the matter off until to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I’ve come here to-day for the purpose of listening to +that sort of nonsense?” snarled Mr. Froyant. “I tell you I want this +business settled. So do you, Beardmore.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore, who was indifferent as to whether the matter was +settled then or the following week, laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it is very important,” he said. “If Mr. Marl is +upset, why should we bother him? Perhaps you’ll stay here to-night, +Marl?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no,” the man’s voice rose almost to a shout. “No, I won’t +stay here, if you don’t mind—I would much rather not!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you like,” said Jim Beardmore indifferently, and folded up +the papers he had prepared for signature. +</p> + +<p> +They walked out into the hall together, and there Jack found them. +</p> + +<p> +Beardmore’s car carried the visitor and his bag back to the station, +and from there on Mr. Marl’s conduct was peculiar. He registered his +bag through to the city, but he himself descended at the next station, +and for a man who so disliked walking, and was by nature so averse +from physical exercise, he displayed an almost heroic spirit, for he +set forth to walk the nine miles which separated him from the +Beardmore estate—and he did not go by the shortest route. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearing nightfall when Mr. Marl made his furtive way into a +thick plantation on the edge of the Beardmore property. +</p> + +<p> +He sat down, a tired, dusty but determined man, and waited for the +night to close down over the countryside. And during the period of +waiting, he examined with tender care the heavy automatic pistol he +had taken from his bag in the train. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch05"> +Chapter V.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Girl Who Ran</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">I can’t</span> understand why that fellow hasn’t come back this morning,” +said Jim Beardmore with a frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Which fellow?” asked Jack carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m speaking of Marl,” said his father. +</p> + +<p> +“Was that the large-sized gentleman I saw yesterday?” asked Derrick +Yale. +</p> + +<p> +They were standing on the terrace of the house, which, from its +elevated position, gave them a view across the country. +</p> + +<p> +The morning train had come and gone. They could see the trail of white +smoke it left as it disappeared into the foothills nine miles away. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I’d better ’phone Froyant, and tell him not to come over.” +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore stroked his stubbly chin. +</p> + +<p> +“Marl puzzles me,” he said. “He is a brilliant fellow I believe, a +reformed thief I know—at least I hope he is reformed. What upset him +yesterday, Jack? He came into the library looking like death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Jack. “I think he has a weak +heart, or something of the sort. He told me he gets these spasms +occasionally.” +</p> + +<p> +Beardmore laughed softly, and going into the house returned with a +walking-stick. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going for a stroll, Jack. No, you needn’t come along. I’ve one or +two things I wish to think out, and I promise you, Yale, I won’t leave +the grounds, though I think you attach too much importance to the +threats of these ruffians.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“What of the sign on the tree?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Jim Beardmore snorted contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“It will take more than that to extract a hundred thousand from me,” +he said. +</p> + +<p> +He waved a farewell at them as he went down the broad stone steps, and +they watched him walking slowly across the park. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really think my father is in any kind of danger?” asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +Yale, who had been staring after the figure, turned with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“In danger?” he repeated, and then after a second’s hesitation. “Yes, +I believe there is very serious danger for him in the next day or +two.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack turned his troubled gaze upon the disappearing figure. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’re wrong,” he said. “Father doesn’t seem to take the +matter as seriously as you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is because your father has not the same experience,” said the +detective, “but I understand that he saw Chief Inspector Parr, and the +inspector thought there was considerable danger.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack chuckled in spite of his fears. +</p> + +<p> +“How do the lion and the lamb amalgamate?” he asked. “I didn’t think +that head-quarters had much use for private men like you, Mr. Yale?” +</p> + +<p> +“I admire Parr,” said Derrick slowly. “He’s slow, but thorough. I am +told that he is one of the most conscientious men at head-quarters, +and I fancy that the head-quarters chiefs have treated him badly over +the last Crimson Circle crime. They have practically told him that if +he cannot run the organisation to earth he must send in his +resignation.” +</p> + +<p> +Whilst they were speaking, the figure of Mr. Beardmore had disappeared +into the gloom of a little wood on the edge of the estate. +</p> + +<p> +“I worked with him during the last Circle murder,” Derrick Yale went +on, “and he struck me——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, and the two men looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking the sound. It was a shot near and distinct, and +it came from the direction of the wood. In an instant Jack had leapt +over the balustrade and was racing across the meadow, Derrick Yale +behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty paces along the woodland path they found Jim Beardmore lying on +his face, and he was quite dead, and even as Jack was staring down at +his father with horrified eyes, a girl emerged from the wood at the +farther end, and stopping only long enough to wipe with a handful of +grass something that was red from her hands, she flew along the shadow +of the hedge which divided the Froyant estate. +</p> + +<p> +Never once did Thalia Drummond look back until she reached the shelter +of the little summer house. Her face was drawn and white, and her +breath came gaspingly as she stood for a second in the doorway of the +little hut, and looked back to the wood. A swift glance round and she +was in the house and on her knees tugging with quivering hands at the +end of a floor board. It came up disclosing a black cavity. Another +second’s hesitation, and she threw into the hole the revolver she had +held in her hand, and dropped the board back into its place. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch06"> +Chapter VI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“Thalia Drummond is a Crook”</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Commissioner looked down at the newspaper cutting before him and +tugged at his grey moustache. Inspector Parr, who knew the signs, +watched with an apparently detached interest. +</p> + +<p> +He was a short, thick-set man, so lacking in inches that it was +remarkable that he had ever satisfied the stringent requirements of +the police authorities. His age was something below fifty, but his big +red face was unlined. It was a face from whence every indication of +intelligence and refinement was absent. The round, staring eyes were +bovine in their lack of expression, the big fleshy nose, the heavy +cheeks, pouched beneath the jaws, and the half-bald head, were units +of his unimpressiveness. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner picked up the cutting. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to this,” he said curtly, and read. It was the editorial of +the <i>Morning Monitor</i> and it was direct to a point of offensiveness. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“ ‘For the second time during the past year the country has been +shocked and outraged by the assassination of a prominent man. It is +not necessary to give here the details of this Crimson Circle crime, +particulars of which appear on another page. But it is very necessary +that we should state in emphatic and unmistakable terms that we view +with consternation the seeming helplessness of police head-quarters to +deal with this criminal gang. Inspector Parr, who has devoted himself +for the past year to tracking the murdering blackmailers, can offer us +nothing more than vague promises of revelations which never +materialise. It is obvious that police head-quarters needs a thorough +overhauling, and the introduction of new blood, and we trust that +those responsible for the government of the country, will not hesitate +to make the drastic changes which are necessary.’ ” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Well,” growled Colonel Morton, “what do you think of that, Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr rubbed his big chin and said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“James Beardmore was murdered after due warning had been given to the +police,” said the Commissioner deliberately. “He was shot within sight +of his house, and the murderer is at large. This is the second bad +case, Parr, and I’ll tell you candidly that it is my intention to act +on the advice which this newspaper gives.” +</p> + +<p> +He tapped the cutting suggestively. +</p> + +<p> +“On the previous occasion you allowed Mr. Yale to get away with all +the kudos for the capture of the murderer. You have seen Mr. Yale, I +presume?” +</p> + +<p> +The detective nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And what does he say?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr shifted uneasily on his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me a lot of nonsense about a dark man with toothache.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did he get that?” asked the Commissioner quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“From the shell of the cartridge he found on the ground,” said the +detective. “I don’t take any notice of this psychometrical stuff——” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner leant back in his chair and sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you take notice of any stuff that is serviceable, +Parr,” he said, “and don’t sneer at Yale. That man has unusual and +peculiar gifts. The fact that you don’t understand them, does not make +them any less peculiar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say, sir,” said Parr, stirred into protest, “that a +man can take a cartridge in his hand and tell you from that the +appearance of the person who last handled it and what he was thinking +about? Why, it is absurd!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing is absurd,” said the Commissioner quietly. “The science of +psychometry has been practised for years. Some people, unusually +sensitive to impression, are able to tell the most remarkable things, +and Yale is one of these.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was there when the murder was committed,” replied Parr. “He was +with Mr. Beardmore’s son, not a hundred yards away, and yet he did not +catch the murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither have you,” he said. “Twelve months ago you told me of your +scheme for trapping the Crimson Circle, and I agreed. We’ve both +expected a little too much for your plan, I think. You must try +something else. I hate to say it, but there it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr did not answer for a time, and then to the Commissioner’s +surprise, he pulled up a chair to the desk and sat down uninvited. +</p> + +<p> +“Colonel,” he said, “I’m going to tell you something,” and he was so +earnest, so unlike his usual self, that the Commissioner could only +look at him in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle gang is easy to get. I can find every one of them, +and will find them if you will give me time. But it is the hub of the +wheel that I’m after. If I can get the hub the spokes don’t count. But +you’ve got to give me a little more authority than I have at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“A little more authority?” said the dumbfounded Commissioner. “What +the devil do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll explain,” said the bovine Mr. Parr, and he explained to such +purpose that he left the Commissioner a very silent and a very +thoughtful man. +</p> + +<p> +After he left head-quarters, Mr. Parr’s first call was at an office in +the centre of the city. +</p> + +<p> +On the third floor, in a tiny suite, which was distinguished only by +the name of the occupant, Mr. Derrick Yale was waiting for him, and a +greater contrast between the two men could not be imagined. +</p> + +<p> +Yale, the overstrung, nervous, and sensitive dreamer; Parr, solid and +beefy, seemingly incapable of an independent thought. +</p> + +<p> +“How did your interview go on, Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very well,” said Parr, ruefully. “I think the Commissioner’s got +one against me. Have you discovered anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve discovered your man with the toothache,” was the astonishing +reply. “His name is Sibly; he is a seafaring man, and was seen in the +vicinity of the house the following day. Yesterday,” he picked up a +telegram, “he was arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct, and in +his possession was found an automatic pistol, which I should imagine +was the weapon with which the crime was committed. You remember that +the bullet which was extracted from poor Beardmore, was obviously +fired from an automatic.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr gaped at him in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you find this out?” +</p> + +<p> +And Derrick Yale laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t a great deal of faith in my deductions,” he said with a +glint of humour in his eyes. “But when I felt that cartridge I was as +certain that I could see the man as I am certain I can see you. I sent +one of my own staff down to make enquiries, with this result.” He +picked up the telegram. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr stood, a heavy frown disfiguring what little claim to beauty +he might have. +</p> + +<p> +“So they’ve caught him,” he said softly. “Now I wonder if he wrote +this?” +</p> + +<p> +He took out a pocket-book, and Derrick Yale saw him extract a scrap of +paper which had evidently been burnt, for the edges were black. +</p> + +<p> +Yale took the scrap from his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you find this?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I raked it out of the ashpan at Beardmore’s place yesterday,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +The writing was in a large scrawling hand, and the scrap ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>You alone</i></span><br> +<span class="i1"><i>me alone</i></span><br> +<span class="i2"><i>Block B</i></span><br> +<span class="i3"><i>Graft</i></span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“ ‘Me alone… you alone,’ ” read Yale. “ ‘Block B… Graft’?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Greek to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He balanced the letter upon the palm of his hand and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t even feel an impression,” he said. “Fire destroys the aura.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr carefully put away the scrap into his case and replaced it in his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“There is another thing I’d like to tell you,” he said. “Somebody was +in the wood who wore pointed shoes and smoked cigars. I found the +cigar ashes in a little hollow, and his footprint was on the +flower-beds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Near the house?” asked Derrick Yale, startled. +</p> + +<p> +The solid man nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“My own theory is,” he went on, “that somebody wanted to warn +Beardmore, wrote this letter and brought it to the house after dark. +It must have been received by the old man, because he burnt it. I +found the ashes in the place where the servants dump their cinders.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a gentle tap at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Jack Beardmore,” said Yale under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +Jack Beardmore showed signs of the distressing period through which he +had passed. He nodded to Parr and came toward Yale with outstretched +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“No news, I suppose?” he asked, and turning to the other: “You were at +the house yesterday, Mr. Parr. Did you find anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing worth speaking about,” said Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve just been to see Froyant, he is in town,” said Jack. “It wasn’t +a very successful visit, for he is in a pitiable state of nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not explain that the unsatisfactory part of his call was that +he had not seen Thalia Drummond, and only one of the men guessed the +reason of his disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale told him of the arrest which had been made. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want you to build any hopes on this,” he said, “even if he is +the man who fired the shot, he is certain to be no more than the +agent. We shall probably hear the same story as we heard before, that +he was in low water and that the chief of the Crimson Circle induced +him to commit the act. We are as far from the real solution as ever we +have been.” +</p> + +<p> +They strolled out of the office together, into the clean autumn +sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +Jack, who had an engagement with a lawyer who was settling his +father’s estate, accompanied the two men, who were on their way to +catch a train for the town where the suspected murderer was detained. +They were passing through one of the busiest streets when Jack uttered +an exclamation. On the opposite side of the road was a big +pawnbroker’s, and a girl was coming from the side entrance devoted to +the service of those who needed temporary loans. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m blessed!” It was Parr’s unemotional voice. “I haven’t seen +her for two years.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack turned on him open-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t seen her for two years,” he said slowly. “Are you referring +to that lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m referring to Thalia Drummond,” he said calmly, “who is a crook +and a companion of crooks!” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch07"> +Chapter VII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Stolen Idol</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack</span> heard him and was stunned. +</p> + +<p> +He stood motionless and speechless, as the girl, as though unconscious +of the scrutiny, hailed a taxi-cab and was driven away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what the dickens was she doing there?” said Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“A crook and a companion of crooks,” repeated Jack mechanically. “Good +God! Where are you going?” he asked quickly, as the inspector took a +step into the roadway. +</p> + +<p> +“I intend discovering what she has been doing in the pawnbroker’s,” +said the stolid Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“She may have gone there because she was short of money. It is no +crime to be short of money.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack realised the feebleness of his defence even as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond a thief! It was incredible, impossible! And yet he +followed unresistingly the detective as he crossed the road; followed +him down the dark passage to the loaning department, and was present +in the manager’s room when an assistant brought in the article which +the girl had pledged. It was a small golden figure of Buddha. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it queer,” said the manager, when Parr had made himself +known. “She only wanted ten pounds and it is worth a hundred if it’s +worth a penny.” +</p> + +<p> +“What explanation did she give?” asked Derrick Yale, who had been a +silent listener. +</p> + +<p> +“She said she was short of money and that her father had a number of +these curios, but wanted to pledge them at a price which would allow +him to redeem them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she leave her address? What name did she give?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond,” said the assistant, “of 29, Park Gate.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale uttered an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Why that’s Froyant’s address, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Too well Jack knew it was the address of the miserly Harvey Froyant, +and he remembered with a sinking of heart that Froyant made a hobby of +collecting these eastern antiquities. The inspector gave a receipt for +the idol and slipped it into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll go along and see Mr. Froyant,” he said, and Jack interposed +desperately: +</p> + +<p> +“For heaven’s sake, don’t let us get this girl into trouble,” he +pleaded. “It may have been some sudden temptation—I will make things +right, if money can settle the affair.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale was eyeing the young man with a grave, understanding +look. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Miss Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack nodded. He was too miserable to speak; he felt an absurd desire +to run away and hide himself. +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be done,” said Inspector Parr definitely. He was the +conventional police officer now. “I’m going along to Froyant’s to +discover whether this article was pledged with his approval.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ll go by yourself,” said Jack wrathfully. +</p> + +<p> +He could not contemplate being a witness of the girl’s humiliation. It +was monstrous. It was beastly of Parr, he said to Yale when they were +alone. +</p> + +<p> +“The girl would not commit so mean a theft, the stupid, blundering +fool! I wish to heaven I had never called his attention to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was he who saw her first,” said Yale, and dropped his hand upon +the young man’s shoulder. “Jack, you’re a little unstrung, I think. +Why are you so interested in Miss Drummond? Of course,” he said +suddenly, “you must have seen a lot of her when you were at home. +Froyant’s estate joins yours, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“If he would give as much attention to the running down of the Crimson +Circle as he gives to the hounding of that poor girl,” he said +bitterly, “my poor father would be alive to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale did his best to soothe him. He took him back to his +office and tried to bring his thoughts to a more pleasant channel. +They had been there a quarter of an hour when the telephone bell rang. +It was Parr who spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve arrested Thalia Drummond, and I am charging her in the morning,” +was the laconic message. +</p> + +<p> +Yale put down the receiver gently and turned to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s arrested?” Jack guessed before he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +Jack Beardmore’s face was very white. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Jack,” said Yale gently, “you have probably been as much +deceived as Froyant. The girl is a thief.” +</p> + +<p> +“If she were a thief and murderess,” said Jack doggedly, “I love her.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch08"> +Chapter VIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Charge</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Parr’s</span> interview with Harvey Froyant was a short one. At the +sight of the detective, that thin man blanched. He knew him by sight +and had met him in connection with the Beardmore tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” he asked tremulously. “What is wrong? Have these +infernal people started a new campaign?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing so bad as that, sir,” said Parr. “I came to ask you a few +questions. How long have you had Thalia Drummond in your house?” +</p> + +<p> +“She has been my secretary for three months,” said Froyant +suspiciously. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“What wages do you pay her?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant mentioned a sum grossly inadequate, and even he was +apologetic for its inefficiency. +</p> + +<p> +“I give her her food, you know, and she has evenings off,” he said, +feeling that the starvation wage must be justified. +</p> + +<p> +“Has she been short of money lately?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—yes. She asked me if I could advance her five pounds yesterday,” +he said. “She said she had a call upon her purse which she could not +meet. Of course, I didn’t advance the money. I do not approve of +advancing money for work which is not performed,” said Froyant +virtuously. “It tends to pauperise——” +</p> + +<p> +“You have a large number of antiques, I understand, Mr. Froyant, some +of them very valuable. Have you missed any lately?” +</p> + +<p> +Froyant jumped to his feet. The very hint that he might have been +robbed was sufficient to set his mind in a panic. Without a word he +rushed from the room. He was gone three minutes and when he came back +his eyes were almost bulging from his head. +</p> + +<p> +“My Buddha!” he gasped. “It is worth a hundred pounds. It was there +this morning——” +</p> + +<p> +“Send for Miss Drummond,” said the detective briefly. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia came, a cool, self-possessed girl, who stood by her employer’s +desk, her hands clasped behind her, scarcely looking at the detective. +</p> + +<p> +The interview was short, and for Mr. Froyant, painful. Upon the girl +it had no apparent effect whatever. And yet she must have known, from +the steely glare in Froyant’s eyes, that her theft had been detected. +For a little time the man found a difficulty in framing a coherent +sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you have stolen something of mine,” he blurted out. His voice +was almost a squeak. The accusing hand trembled in the intensity of +his emotion. “You—you are a thief!” +</p> + +<p> +“I asked you for the money,” said the girl coolly. “If you hadn’t been +such a wicked old skinflint, you’d have let me have it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You—you——” spluttered Froyant, and then with a gasp—“I charge +her, inspector. I charge her with theft. You shall go to prison for +this. Mark my words, young woman. Wait—wait,” he raised his hand. “I +will see if anything else is missing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can save yourself the trouble,” said the girl, as he was leaving +the room. “The Buddha was the only thing I took, and it was an ugly +little beast, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your keys,” stormed the enraged man. “To think that I’ve +allowed you to open my business letters!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve opened one which will not be pleasant for you, Mr. Froyant,” she +said quietly, and then he saw what she was holding in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +She passed the envelope across to him, and with staring eyes he saw +the Crimson Circle, but the words written within the hoop were blurred +and indistinct. He dropped the card and collapsed into a chair. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch09"> +Chapter IX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia in the Police Court</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> magistrate was a kind-hearted man and seemed uncomfortable. He +looked from the unemotional Mr. Parr who stood on the witness-stand, +to the girl in the steel pen, and she was almost as cool and as +self-controlled as the police witness. Her face was one which would +have attracted attention in any circumstances, but in the drab setting +of the police court, her beauty was emphasised and enhanced. +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate glanced down at the charge-sheet before him. Her age +was described as twenty-one, her occupation as secretary. +</p> + +<p> +The man of law, who had had many shocks in his lifetime, and had +steeled himself to the most unusual and improbable happenings, could +only shake his head in despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything known against this woman?” he asked, and felt it was +absurd even to refer to the slim, girlish prisoner as a “woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has been under observation for some time, your worship,” was the +reply, “but she has not been in the hands of the police before.” +</p> + +<p> +The magistrate looked over his glasses at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot understand how you got yourself into this terrible +position,” he said. “A girl who has evidently had the education of a +lady, you have been charged with a theft of a few pounds, for although +the article you stole was worth a large sum, that was all that your +dishonesty realised. Your act was probably due to some great +temptation. I suppose the need for the money was very urgent; yet that +does not excuse your act. I shall bind you over to come up for +judgment when called upon, treating you as a first offender, and I do +most earnestly appeal to you to live honestly and avoid a repetition +of this unpleasant experience.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl bowed slightly and left the box for the police office, and +the next case was called. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey Froyant rose at the same time and made his way out of the +court. He was a rich man to whom money represented the goal and object +of life. He was the type of man who counted the contents of his pocket +every night before he went to bed, and he would have had his own +mother arrested in similar circumstances. Thalia Drummond’s offence +was made more heinous in his eyes because her last act of service had +been to hand to him the warning of the Crimson Circle, from the shock +of which he had not yet recovered. +</p> + +<p> +He was a large, thin man with a permanent stoop. His attitude towards +the world was one of acute suspicion; for the moment it was one of +resentment, for he held the strongest views on the sacredness of +property. +</p> + +<p> +To Parr, who followed him out of the court, he expressed his +disappointment that the girl had not been sent to prison. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman like that is a danger to society,” he complained in his +high-pitched, peevish voice. “How do I know that she isn’t in league +with these blackguards who are threatening me? Forty thousand they ask +for! Forty thousand!” He wailed the last words. “It is your duty to +see that I come to no harm! Understand that—it is your duty!” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard you!” said Inspector Parr wearily. “And as to the girl, I +don’t suppose she ever heard of the Crimson Circle. She’s very young.” +</p> + +<p> +“Young!” snarled the lean man. “That’s the time to punish them, isn’t +it? Catch them young and punish them young, and you may turn them into +respectable citizens!” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say you’re right,” agreed the stout Mr. Parr with a sigh, and +then inconsequently, “Children are a great responsibility.” +</p> + +<p> +Froyant muttered something under his breath, and without so much as a +nod of farewell, walked rapidly through the court, into the motor-car +which was waiting for him at the entrance to the court-house. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector watched him depart with a slow smile, and, looking +round, caught the eye of a young man who was waiting by the clerk’s +door. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “Are you waiting to see the +young lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. How long will they keep her?” asked Jack nervously. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr gazed at him with expressionless eyes, and sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Beardmore,” he said quietly, “you +are probably taking a greater interest in Miss Drummond than is good +for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Jack quickly. “The whole thing was a plot. +That beast Froyant——” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Drummond admitted that she took the statuette,” he said, “and, +besides, we saw her coming out of Isaacs’. There isn’t any doubt about +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“She only made the admission for some reason best known to herself,” +said Jack violently. “Do you think a girl like that would steal? Why +should she? I would have given her anything she wanted”—he checked +himself suddenly. “There is something behind this,” he went on more +quietly, “something which I do not understand, and probably you do not +understand either, inspector.” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened at that moment and the girl came out. She stopped at +the sight of Jack and a faint flush crept into her pale face. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you in court?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, and she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You shouldn’t have come,” she said almost vehemently. “How did you +know? Who told you?” She seemed oblivious to the presence of the +inspector, but for the first time since her arrest she showed some +sign of her pent emotion. The colour came and went, and her voice +shook a little as she continued: “I am sorry you knew anything about +it, Mr. Beardmore, and am desperately sorry you came,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“But it isn’t true,” he interrupted. “You can tell me that, Thalia? It +was a plot, wasn’t it? A plot intended to ruin you?” His voice was +almost pleading, but she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“There was no plot,” she said quietly. “I stole from Mr. Froyant.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why, why?” he asked despairingly. “Why did you——” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I can’t tell you why,” she said with the ghost of a smile +on her lips, “except that I needed the money, and that is good and +sufficient reason, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll never believe it.” Jack’s face was set and his grey eyes +regarded her steadily. “You are not the kind who would indulge in +petty pilfering.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a long time, and then turned her eyes to the +inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be able to undeceive Mr. Beardmore,” she said. “I am afraid I +cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going?” he asked as, with a little nod, she was passing +on. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going home,” she replied. “Please don’t come with me, Mr. +Beardmore.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have no home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a lodging,” she said with a hint of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am going with you,” he said doggedly. +</p> + +<p> +She did not make any remonstrance, and they passed from the court +together into the busy street. No word was spoken until they reached +the entrance of a tube station. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I must go home,” she said more gently than before. +</p> + +<p> +“But what are you going to do?” he demanded. “How are you going to get +your living with this terrible charge against you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so terrible?” she asked coolly. She was walking into the +station entrance when he took her arm and swung her round with almost +savage violence. +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen to me, Thalia,” he said between his teeth. “I love you and +I want to marry you. I haven’t told you that before, but you’ve +guessed it. I am not going to allow you to go out of my life. Do you +understand that? I do not believe that you are a thief and——” +</p> + +<p> +Very gently she disengaged his grip. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Beardmore,” she said in a low voice, “you are just being quixotic +and foolish! You have told me what you will not allow, and I tell you +that I am not going to allow you to ruin your life through your +infatuation for a convicted thief. You know nothing of me except that +I am a seemingly nice girl whom you met by accident in the country, +and it is my duty to be your mother and your maiden aunt.” There was a +glint of amusement in her eye as she took his offered hand. “Some day +perhaps we shall meet again, and by that time the glamour of romance +will have worn off. Good-bye.” +</p> + +<p> +She had disappeared into the booking hall before he could find his +voice. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch10"> +Chapter X.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Summons of The Crimson Circle</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Thalia Drummond</span> went back to the lodging she had occupied before she +had entered Mr. Harvey Froyant’s service as resident secretary, and +apparently the story of her ill-deeds had preceded her, for the stout +landlady gave her a chilly welcome, and had she not continued to pay +the rent of her one room during the time she was working for Froyant, +it was probable that she would not have been admitted. +</p> + +<p> +It was a small room, neatly if plainly furnished, and oblivious to the +landlady’s glum face and cold reception, she went to her apartment and +locked the door behind her. She had spent a very unpleasant week, for +she had been remanded in custody, and her very clothes seemed to +exhale the musty odour of Holloway Gaol. Holloway, however, had an +advantage which No. 14, Lexington Street, did not possess. It had an +admirable system of bathrooms, for which the girl was truly grateful +as she began to change. +</p> + +<p> +She had plenty to occupy her mind. Harvey Froyant… Jack Beardmore… she +frowned as though at a distasteful thought, and tried to dismiss him +from her mind. It was a relief to go back to Froyant. She almost hated +him. She certainly despised him. The time she had spent in his house +had been the most wretched period in her life. She had taken her meals +with the servants and had been conscious that every scrap of food she +ate had been measured and weighed and duly apportioned by a man whose +cheque for seven figures would have been honoured. +</p> + +<p> +“At least, he didn’t make love to you, my dear,” she said to herself, +and smiled. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Harvey Froyant making love to +anybody. She recalled the days she had followed him about his big +house with a notebook in her hand, whilst he searched for evidence of +his servants’ neglect, drawing his fingers along the polished shelves +in the library in a vain search for dust, turning up carpet corners, +examining silver, or else counting, as he did regularly every week, +the contents of his still-room. +</p> + +<p> +He measured the wine at table and counted the empty bottles, even the +corks. It was his boast that in his big garden he could tell the +absence of a flower. These he sent to market regularly, with the +vegetables he grew and the peaches which ripened on the wall, and woe +betide the unlucky gardener who had poached so much as a ripe apple +from the orchard, for Harvey had an uncanny instinct which led him to +the rifled tree. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled a little wryly at the recollection, and, having completed +her change of costume, she went out, locking the door behind her. Her +landlady watched her pass down the street, and nodded ominously. +</p> + +<p> +“Your lodger’s come back,” said a neighbour. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she’s come back,” said the woman grimly. “A nice lady she is—I +don’t think! It is the first time I’ve ever had a crook in my house, +and it’ll be the last. I am giving her notice to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Unconscious of the criticism, Thalia boarded a bus which took her into +the city. She got down in Fleet Street, went into the large office of +a popular newspaper. At the desk she took an advertisement form, +looked at the white sheet for a moment thoughtfully, then wrote: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<span class="sc">Secretary</span>.—Young lady from the Colonies requires post as +Secretary. Resident-Secretary preferred. Small wages required. +Shorthand and Typewriting.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She left a space for the box number, handed the advertisement across +the counter, and paid the fee. +</p> + +<p> +She was back again in Lexington Street in time for tea, a meal which +was brought up to her on a battered tray by her landlady. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Miss Drummond,” said that worthy person, “I’ve got a few +words to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say them,” said the girl carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall want your room after next week.” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia turned slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that mean I’ve got to get out?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what it means. I can’t have people like you staying in a +respectable house. I’m surprised at you, a young lady as I always +thought you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“Continue to think so,” said Thalia coolly. “I’m both young and +ladylike.” +</p> + +<p> +But the stout landlady was not to be checked in her well-rehearsed +indictment. +</p> + +<p> +“A nice lady you are,” she said, “giving my house a bad name. You’ve +been in prison for a week. Perhaps you don’t think I know, but I read +the newspapers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure you do,” said the girl quietly. “That will do, Mrs. Boled. I +leave your house next week.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I should like to say——” began the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Say it on the mat,” said Thalia, and closed the door in the choleric +lady’s face. +</p> + +<p> +As it was now growing dark, she lit a kerosene lamp and occupied the +evening by manicuring her nails, an operation which was interrupted by +the arrival of the nine o’clock post. She heard the rat-tat at the +door and the heavy feet of her landlady on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“A letter for you,” called the woman. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia unlocked the door and took the envelope from the landlady’s +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better tell your friends that you’re going to get a new +address,” said the woman, loath to leave her quarrel half-finished. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t told my friends yet that I live in such a horrible place,” +said Thalia sweetly, and locked the door before the woman could think +of a suitable reply. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled as she carried the envelope to the light. It was addressed +in printed characters. She turned it over, looking at the postmark +before she opened it, and extracted a thick white card. At the first +glance of the message her face changed its expression. +</p> + +<p> +The card was a square one, and in the centre was a large crimson +circle. Within the circle was written in the same printed characters: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>We have need of you. Enter the car which you will find waiting at +the corner of Steyne Square at ten o’clock to-morrow night.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She put the card down on the table and stared at it. +</p> + +<p> +The Crimson Circle had need of her! +</p> + +<p> +She had expected the summons, but it had come earlier than she had +anticipated. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch11"> +Chapter XI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Confession</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">At</span> three minutes to ten the following night, a closed car drove +slowly into Steyne Square and came to a halt at the corner of Clarges +Street. A few minutes later Thalia Drummond walked into the square +from the other end. She wore a long black cloak, and the little hat +upon her head was held in its position by a thick veil knotted under +her chin. +</p> + +<p> +Without a second’s hesitation she opened the door of the car and +stepped in. It was in complete darkness, but she could see the figure +of the driver indistinctly. He did not turn his head, nor did he +attempt to start the car, although she felt the vibration of the +engines beneath her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You were charged at the Marylebone Police Court yesterday morning +with theft,” said the driver without preamble. “Yesterday afternoon +you inserted an advertisement, describing yourself as a newly-arrived +colonial, your intention being to find another situation, where you +could continue your career of petty pilfering.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is very interesting,” said Thalia without a tremor of voice, +“but you did not bring me here to give me my past history. When I had +your letter I guessed that you thought I would be a very useful +assistant. But there is one question I want to ask you.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I wish to reply I shall,” was the uncompromising answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I realise that,” said Thalia, with a faint smile in the darkness. +“Suppose I had communicated with the police and I had come here +attended by Mr. Parr and the clever Mr. Derrick Yale?” +</p> + +<p> +“You would have been lying on the pavement dead by now,” was the calm +announcement. “Miss Drummond, I am going to put easy money in your way +and find you a very excellent job. I do not even mind if you indulge +in your eccentricity in your spare time, but your principal task will +be to serve me. You understand?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded, and then realising he could not see her, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will be well paid for everything you do; I shall always be on +hand to help you—or to punish you if you attempt to betray me,” he +added. “Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Your job will be a very simple one,” went on the unknown driver. “You +will present yourself at Brabazon’s Bank to-morrow. Brabazon is in +need of a secretary.” +</p> + +<p> +“But will he employ me?” she interrupted. “Must I go in another name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go in your own name,” said the man impatiently. “Don’t interrupt. I +will pay you two hundred pounds for your services. Here is the money.” +He thrust two notes over his shoulder and she took them. +</p> + +<p> +Her hand accidentally touched his shoulder, and she felt something +hard beneath his fleecy coat. +</p> + +<p> +“A bullet-proof waistcoat,” she noted mentally, and then aloud: “What +am I to say to Mr. Brabazon about my earlier experience?” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be unnecessary to say anything, or do anything. You will +receive your instructions from time to time. That is all,” he added +shortly. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later Thalia Drummond sat in the corner of the taxi-cab +which was taking her back to Lexington Street. Behind her, at +intervals, came another taxi-cab which slowed when hers did, but never +overtook her, not even when she descended at the corner of the street +where her lodgings were situated. And when she turned the key of her +street door, Inspector Parr was only a dozen paces from her. If she +knew that she was being shadowed, she made no sign. +</p> + +<p> +Parr only waited for a few minutes, watching the house from the +opposite side of the roadway, and then, as her light appeared in the +upper window, he turned and walked thoughtfully back to the cab which +had brought him so far eastward. +</p> + +<p> +He had opened the door of the cab and was stepping in, when somebody +passed him on the side-walk; somebody who was walking briskly with his +collar turned up, but Inspector Parr knew him. +</p> + +<p> +“Flush,” he called sharply, and the man turned round on his heel. +</p> + +<p> +He was a little dark, thin-faced, lithe man, at the sight of the +Inspector his jaw dropped. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—why, Mr. Parr,” he said, with ill-affected geniality, “whoever +thought of seeing you in this part of the world?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want a little talk with you, Flush. Will you walk along with me?” +</p> + +<p> +It was an ominous invitation, which Mr. “Flush” had heard before. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t got anything against me, Mr. Parr?” he said loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” admitted Parr. “Besides, you’re going straight now. I seem +to remember you telling me that the day you came out of prison.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” said “Flush” Barnet, heaving a sigh of relief. “Going +straight, working for my living, and engaged to be married.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t tell me?” said the stout Mr. Parr with well-simulated +astonishment. “And is it Bella or Milly?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is Milly,” said “Flush,” inwardly cursing the excellent memory of +the police inspector. “She’s going straight, too. She’s got a job at +one of the shops.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Brabazon’s Bank, to be exact,” said the inspector, and then turned +as though some thought had arrested him. “I wonder,” he muttered, “I +wonder if that is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a perfect young lady, is Milly,” Mr. “Flush” hastened to +explain. “Honest as the day, wouldn’t swipe a clock, not if her life +depended on it. I don’t want you to think she is bad, Mr. Parr, +because she’s not. We’re both living what I might term an honest +life.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr’s placid face wrinkled in a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s grand news you’re telling me, ‘Flush.’ Where is Milly to be +found in these days?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s living in diggings on the other side of the river,” said +“Flush” reluctantly. “You’re not going to rake up old scandals, are +you, Mr. Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forbid,” said Inspector Parr piously. “No, I’d like to have a +talk with her. Perhaps——” he hesitated, “anyway, it can wait. It was +rather providential meeting you, ‘Flush.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +But “Flush” did not share that view, even though he expressed a faint +acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s it,” said Inspector Parr to himself, but he did not express +the nature of his suspicions, even when he met Derrick Yale at his +club half-an-hour later. And it was a further curious fact, that +though they touched every aspect of the Crimson Circle mystery in the +long conversation which followed, never once did Mr. Parr mention +Thalia Drummond’s interview, which, if he had not seen, he had at +least guessed. +</p> + +<p> +The two men left early the next morning for the little country town +where one Ambrose Sibly, described as an able-seaman, was held on a +charge of murder. At his own earnest request, Jack Beardmore was +allowed to accompany them, though he was not present at the interview +between the two detectives and the sullen man who had slain his +father. +</p> + +<p> +A brawny, unshaven fellow, half Scottish, half Swede, Sibly proved to +be. He could neither read nor write, and had been in the hands of the +police before. This much Parr had discovered from a reference of his +fingerprints. +</p> + +<p> +At first he was not inclined to commit himself, and it was rather +Derrick Yale’s skilful cross-examination, than Inspector Parr’s +efforts, which produced the confession. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did it all right,” he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +They were seated in the cell with an official shorthand-writer taking +a note of his statement. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got me proper, but you wouldn’t have got me if I hadn’t been +drunk. And whilst I’m confessing, I might as well own up that I killed +Harry Hobbs. He was a shipmate of mine on the <i>Oritianga</i> in +1912—they can only hang me once. Killed him and chucked his body +overboard, I did, over the question of a woman that we met at Newport +News, which is in America. I’ll tell you how this happened, gentlemen. +I lost my ship about a month ago, and was stranded at the Sailors’ +Home at Wapping. I got chucked out of there for being drunk, and on +top of that I was locked up and got seven days’ imprisonment. If the +old fool had only given me a month I shouldn’t have been here. One +night after I came out of prison I was walking through the East End, +down on my luck and starving for a drink, and feeling properly +miserable. To make it worse, I had the toothache——” +</p> + +<p> +Parr met Derrick Yale’s eyes, and Derrick smiled faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“I was loafing along the edge of the pavement looking for cigarette +ends, and thinking of nothing except where I could get a bit of food +and a night’s lodging. It was beginning to rain, too, and it looked as +though I was going to have another night on the streets, when I heard +a voice say, almost in my ear, ‘Jump in.’ I looked round. A motor-car +was standing by the side of the roadway. I couldn’t believe my ears. +Presently the man in the car said ‘Jump in. It’s you I mean!’ and he +mentioned my name. We drove along for a while without his saying +anything, and I noticed that he kept clear of all the streets where +the big lights were. +</p> + +<p> +“After a bit he stopped the car, and began to tell me who I was. I can +assure you I was surprised. He knew the whole of my history. He even +knew about Harry Hobbs—I was tried for that killing and +acquitted—and then he asked me if I’d like to earn a hundred pounds. +I told him I would, and he said there was an old gentleman in the +country who had done him a lot of harm, and he wanted him ‘outed.’ I +didn’t want to take the job on for some time, but he gave me such a +lot of talk about how he could get me hung for Hobbs’s murder, and how +it was safe, and he’d give me a bicycle to get away on, and at last I +agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“He picked me up by arrangement a week later in Steyne Square. Then he +gave me all the final particulars. I got down to Beardmore’s place +soon after it was dark, and hid in the wood. He told me Mr. Beardmore +generally walked through the wood every morning, and that I was to +make myself comfortable for the night. I hadn’t been in the wood an +hour when I had a fright. I heard somebody moving. I think it must +have been a game-keeper. He was a big fellow, and I only just got a +glimpse of him. +</p> + +<p> +“And I think that’s about all, gentlemen, except that the next morning +the old fellow came in the wood and I shot him. I don’t remember much +about it, for I was drunk at the time, having taken a bottle of whisky +into the wood with me. But I was sober enough to get on to the +bicycle, and I rode off. And I should have got away altogether, if it +hadn’t been for the booze.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that is all?” asked Parr, when the confession had been read over +and the man had affixed a rough cross. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all, guv’nor,” said the sailor. +</p> + +<p> +“And you don’t know who it was who employed you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the faintest idea,” said the other cheerfully. “There’s one thing +about him, though, I could tell you,” he said after a pause. “He kept +using a word that I’ve never heard before. I’m not highly educated, +but I’ve noticed that some men have favourite words. We had an old +skipper who always used the word ‘morbid’.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the word?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +The man scratched his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll remember it and let you know,” he said, and they left him to his +meditations, which were few, and probably not unpleasant. +</p> + +<p> +Four hours after, the jailor took Ambrose Sibly some food. He was +lying on his bed, and the jailor shook him by the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Wake up,” he said, but Ambrose Sibly never woke again. +</p> + +<p> +He was stone dead. +</p> + +<p> +And in the tin dipper, half-filled with water, which stood by his bed, +and with which he had slaked his thirst, they found sufficient +hydrocyanic acid to kill fifty men. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not the poison which interested Inspector Parr so much as +the little circle of crimson paper which was found floating on the top +of the water. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch12"> +Chapter XII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Pointed Boots</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Felix Marl</span> sat behind the locked door of his bedroom, and he was +engaged in a task which had the elements of unpleasant familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty-five years before, when he was an inmate of the big French +prison at Toulouse, he had worked in a bootmaker’s shop, and the +handling of boots was an everyday experience. It is true his business +had been to repair, and not to destroy. To-day, with a razor-sharp +knife, he was cutting to shreds a pair of pointed patent leather shoes +which he had only worn three times. Strip by strip he cut the leather, +which he then placed on the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Some men live intensely and suffer intensely. Mr. Felix Marl was one +of those who could crowd into a day the terrors of an æon. In some +manner a newspaper had got hold of the story of the footprint in +Beardmore’s ground, and a new fear had been added to the many which +confused and paralysed this big man. He was sitting in his shirt +sleeves, the perspiration rolling down his face, for the fire was a +big one and the room was super-heated. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the last shred was thrown into the fire and he sat watching +it grill and flame before he put away the knife, washed his hands and +opened the windows to let out the acrid odour of burning leather. +</p> + +<p> +It would have been better, he thought, if he had carried out his first +resolution, and he cursed himself for the cowardice which had induced +him to substitute his revolver for a fountain pen. But he was safe. +Nobody had seen him leave the grounds. +</p> + +<p> +With such men as he, blind panic and unreasoning confidence succeed +one another, almost as a natural reaction. By the time he had +descended his stairs to his little library he had almost forgotten +that he was in any danger. +</p> + +<p> +In the fading light of day he had written a conciliatory, even a +grovelling letter, and had, as he believed, delivered it safely. Would +it be found? He had another moment of panic. +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw!” said Mr. Marl, and dismissed that dangerous possibility. +</p> + +<p> +His servant brought him a tea-tray and arranged it on a small table by +the side of his desk, where the big man sat. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you see that gentleman now, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” said Mr. Marl, turning round. “Which gentleman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I told you there was a man who wanted to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Marl remembered that his boot-destroying operation had been +interrupted by a knock. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I put his card on the table, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you tell him that I was engaged?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but he said he’d wait until you came down.” +</p> + +<p> +The man handed him the card, and Mr. Marl reading it, jumped and +turned a sickly yellow. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr,” he said unsteadily. “What does he want with me?” +</p> + +<p> +His shaking hand fingered his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Show him in,” he said with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +He had not met Inspector Parr either professionally or socially, and +his first glance at the little man reassured him. There was nothing +particularly menacing in the appearance of the red-faced detective. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, inspector. I’m sorry I was busy when you came,” said Mr. +Marl. When he was agitated his voice was almost bird-like in its +thinness. +</p> + +<p> +Parr sat down on the edge of the nearest chair, balancing his Derby +hat on his knee. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d wait until you came down, Mr. Marl. I wanted to see you +about this Beardmore murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marl said nothing. With an effort he kept his trembling lips from +quivering, and assumed, as he believed, an air of polite interest. +</p> + +<p> +“You knew Mr. Beardmore very well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very well,” said Marl. “I certainly have had business dealings +with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you met him before?” +</p> + +<p> +Marl hesitated. He was the kind of man to whom a lie came most +readily, and his natural habit of mind was to state the exact opposite +of the truth. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he admitted. “I had seen him years ago, but that was before he +had grown a beard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where was Mr. Beardmore when you were coming into the house?” asked +Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“He was standing on the terrace,” replied Marl with unnecessary +loudness. +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw him?” +</p> + +<p> +Marl nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“They tell me, Mr. Marl,” Parr went on, looking down at his hat, “that +for some reason or other you were startled—Mr. Jack Beardmore says +that he thought you were momentarily terrified. What was the cause of +that?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marl shrugged his shoulders and forced a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I explained it was a little heart attack. I am subject to +them,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Parr had turned his hat so that he was looking into the interior, and +he did not raise his eyes when he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“It was not the sight of Mr. Beardmore?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not,” said the other vigorously. “Why should I be scared of +Mr. Beardmore? I’ve had a lot of correspondence with him, and know him +almost as well——” +</p> + +<p> +“But you hadn’t met him for years?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hadn’t seen him for years,” corrected Marl irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“And the cause of your agitation was just a heart attack, Mr. Marl?” +asked the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time his eyes rose and fixed themselves upon the +other’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely.” Marl’s voice did not lack heartiness. “I had forgotten +all about my little seizure until you reminded me.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another point I wanted cleared up,” said the detective. His +attention had gone back to his fascinating hat, which he was turning +over and over mechanically until it had the appearance of a revolving +butter-churn. “When you came to Mr. Beardmore’s house you were wearing +pointed patent shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +Marl frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Was I? I’ve forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you take any walk into the grounds, except the walk you had from +the railway station?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t walk around the house to admire the—er—architecture?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I did not. I was only in the house a few minutes, and then I +drove away.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr raised his eyes to the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it be asking you too much,” he demanded apologetically, “if I +requested you to show me the patent shoes you wore that day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said Marl, rising with alacrity. +</p> + +<p> +He was out of the room a few minutes, and came back with a pair of +long pointed patent boots. +</p> + +<p> +The detective took them in his hand and looked earnestly at the sole. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said. “Of course, these are not the boots you were wearing, +because——” he rubbed the soles gently with his hand, “there is dust +on them, and the ground has been wet for the last week.” +</p> + +<p> +Marl’s heart nearly stopped beating. +</p> + +<p> +“Those are the boots I wore,” he said defiantly. “What you call ‘dust’ +is really dried mud.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr looked at his dusty fingers and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I think there must be some mistake, Mr. Marl,” he said gently. “This +is chalk dust.” He put the boots down and rose. “However, it isn’t +very important,” he said. He stood so long, looking down at the +carpet, that Mr. Marl, in spite of his fear, became impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything more I can do for you, officer?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Parr. “I want you to give me the name and address of your +tailor. Perhaps you would write it down for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“My tailor?” Mr. Marl glared at the visitor. “What the dickens do you +want of my tailor?” And then, with a laugh, “Well, you are a curious +man, inspector; but I’ll do it with pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +He went to his secretaire, pulled out a sheet of paper, wrote down a +name and address and, blotting it, handed it to the detective. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr did not even look at the address, but put the paper into his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry to bother you, but you will realise that everybody who was +present at the house within twenty-four hours of Mr. Beardmore’s death +must necessarily be interrogated. The Crimson Circle——” +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle!” gasped Mr. Marl, and the detective looked at him +straightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you know that the Crimson Circle were responsible for this +murder?” +</p> + +<p> +To do him justice, Mr. Felix Marl knew nothing of the kind. He had +seen a brief report that James Beardmore had been found shot but the +association of the murder with the Crimson Circle had not been +disclosed except by the <i>Monitor</i>, a newspaper which Mr. Marl never +read. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped into a chair, quaking. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle,” he muttered. “Good God—I never thought——” he +checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“What didn’t you think?” asked Parr gently. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle,” murmured the big man again. “I thought it was +just a——” he did not complete his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +For an hour after the detective’s departure Felix Marl sat huddled up +in his chair, his head in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +The Crimson Circle! +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time he had ever been brought into even the remotest +touch with that blackmailing organisation, and now its obtrusion upon +the order of his thoughts was so violent that it disturbed every +theory he had formed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like it,” he muttered as he got up painfully and turned on +the light in the darkened room. “I think this is where I get away.” +</p> + +<p> +He spent the evening examining his bank-book, and the examination was +very comforting. He could squeeze out a little more, he thought, and +then—— +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch13"> +Chapter XIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Mr. Marl Squeezes a Little More</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Another</span> agent of the Crimson Circle found her lines cast in pleasant +places. She had been accepted by Mr. Brabazon without question, and +evidently the man in the car possessed extraordinary influences. +</p> + +<p> +What was even more extraordinary was that day followed day without a +word from her mysterious employer. She had expected that he would +almost immediately avail himself of her services, but she had been at +Brabazon’s (late Seller’s) Bank nearly a month before she received any +communication. It came one morning. She found the letter on her desk, +addressed in bold pen-print. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sign of the Circle on the letter, which began without +preamble: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Make the acquaintance of Marl. Discover why he has a hold over +Brabazon. Send me the figures of his account and notify me immediately +his account is closed. Notify me also if Parr and Derrick Yale come to +the bank. Wire Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, City.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She carried out her instructions faithfully, though it was not for a +few days that she had an opportunity of seeing Mr. Marl. +</p> + +<p> +Only once did Derrick Yale come into the bank. She had seen him +before, when he was a guest of the Beardmores, and even if she had +not, she would have recognised him from the portrait of the famous +detective which had appeared in the newspapers. +</p> + +<p> +What his business was she did not learn, but, looking out of the +corner of her eye from the little office she occupied alone, by virtue +of her position as Brabazon’s private secretary, she saw him talking +with one of the tellers at the counter, and duly notified the Crimson +Circle. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr, however, did not come, nor did she see Jack Beardmore. +She did not want to think too much of Jack. He was not a pleasant +subject. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * +</p> + +<p> +In moments of perturbation John Brabazon, the austere and stately +president of Seller’s Bank, had a characteristic little trick. His +white hands would stray to the hair, curly and thick at the back of +his head. One curl he would twist about his forefinger for a moment, +and then he would slowly bring the tips of his fingers across his bald +dome until they rested on his forehead. In such moments, with his head +bowed and his fingers resting on his brow, he had the appearance of +being engaged in prayer. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman who sat with him in his neat office had no +characteristics at all. He was a big man, who breathed noisily, and he +was puffy with lazy, indulgent living, but he did not fidget and his +hands were folded over his large waistcoat. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Marl,” the banker’s voice was soft and almost caressing, “you +try my patience at times. I will say nothing about the strain you put +upon my resources.” +</p> + +<p> +The big man chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you security, Brab—excellent security, old man. You can’t +deny that!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Brabazon’s white fingers played a tune on the edge of his desk. +</p> + +<p> +“You bring me impossible schemes, and hitherto I have been foolish +enough to finance them,” he said. “There must come an end to such +folly. You have no need for help. Your balance at this bank alone is +nearly a hundred thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +Marl looked round at the door and bent forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you a story,” he mumbled, “a story about a penniless young +clerk that married the widow of Seller, of Seller’s Bank. She was old +enough to be his mother, and died suddenly—in Switzerland. She fell +over a precipice. Don’t I know it? Wasn’t I takin’ photographs of the +bee-utiful mountain scenery? Did I ever show you the picture of that +accident, Brab? You are in it! Yes, you’re in it, though you told the +examining magistrate you were miles and miles away!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Brabazon’s eyes were on the desk. Not a muscle of his face moved. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” said Mr. Marl in a more normal tone, “you can afford it. +You’re making another matrimonial alliance—that’s the expression, +ain’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +The banker raised his eyes and frowned at his visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marl was evidently amused. He slapped his knee and choked with +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“What about the person you met in Steyne Square the other night—the +one in the closed motor-car, eh? Don’t deny it! I saw you! A nice +little car, it was.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, for the first time, Brabazon displayed signs of emotion. His face +was grey and drawn and his eyes seemed to have receded further into +their sockets. +</p> + +<p> +“I will arrange your loan,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marl’s expression of satisfaction was interrupted by a knock at +the door. At Brabazon’s “Come in,” the door opened to admit one whose +appearance put all other matters out of the visitor’s head. +</p> + +<p> +The girl brought a paper which she placed before her +employer—evidently a pencilled telephone message. +</p> + +<p> +“White—gold—red,” Mr. Marl’s senses registered the impression he +received. White, creamy white and delicate skin, red as poppies the +scarlet lips, yellow as ripe corn the hair. He saw her in profile, was +revolted a little at the firmness of her chin—Mr. Marl liked women +who were yielding and soft and malleable in his hands—but the beauty +of mouth and nose and brow—they made him blink. +</p> + +<p> +He breathed a little more quickly, a little more loudly, and when she +had gone after a colloquy, in a low tone, he sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“What a queen!” he said. “I’ve seen her somewhere before. What is her +name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Drummond—Thalia Drummond,” said Mr. Brabazon, eyeing the gross man +coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond!” repeated Felix slowly. “Isn’t she the girl who used +to be with Froyant? Bit sweet on her yourself, eh, Brabazon?” +</p> + +<p> +The man at the writing-table looked at the other steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not make it a practice to be ‘sweet on’ my employees, Mr. Marl,” +he said. “Miss Drummond is a very efficient worker. That is all that I +require of my staff.” +</p> + +<p> +Marl rose heavily, chuckling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see you to-morrow morning about that other business,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed wheezily, but Mr. Brabazon did not smile. +</p> + +<p> +“At half-past ten to-morrow,” he said, going to the door with the +visitor. “Or can you make it eleven?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eleven,” agreed the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning,” said the banker, but did not offer his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly had the door closed on the visitor before Mr. Brabazon locked +it and returned to his desk. He took from his pocket-book a plain +white card, and dipping his pen in the red ink, drew a small circle. +Beneath he wrote the words: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Felix Marl saw our interview in Steyne Square. He lives at 79, +Marisburg Place.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He put the card into an envelope and addressed it: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Mr. Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, City.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + + +<h2 id="ch14"> +Chapter XIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia is Asked Out</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Marl</span> had to pass through the bank premises, and he glanced along +the two rows of desks without, however, catching a glimpse of the girl +whose face he sought. Near the end of the counter was a small +compartment, the occupant of which was shielded from observation by +opaque glass windows. The door was ajar, and he caught just a flash of +the figure and walked toward the door. A girl at a typewriter watched +him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond looked up from her desk to see the big smiling face of +a man looking down at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Busy, Miss Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” she replied, but did not seem to resent his intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get much fun here, do you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a lot.” Her dark eyes were surveying him appraisingly. +</p> + +<p> +“What about a bit of dinner one of these nights and a show to follow?” +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes took him in from his dyed hair to his painfully varnished +boots. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a wicked old man,” she said calmly, “but dinner is my +favourite meal.” +</p> + +<p> +His grin broadened and the fires of conquest flickered in his faded +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What about ‘The Moulin Gris’?” He suggested the restaurant, without +doubting her acceptance, but her lips curled scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not at Hooligans Fish Parlour?” she asked. “No, it’s the +Ritz-Carlton or nothing for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Marl was staggered, but pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a princess,” he beamed, “and you shall have a royal feed! What +about to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Meet me at my house in Marisburg Place, Bayswater Road. 7.30. You’ll +find my name on the door.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, expecting her to demur, but to his surprise, she nodded +again. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, darling,” said the bold Mr. Marl and kissed the tips of his +fat fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut the door,” said the girl and went on with her work. +</p> + +<p> +She was destined again to be interrupted. This time the visitor was a +good-looking girl, whose forearms were gauntletted in shiny leather. +It was the typist who had followed Mr. Marl’s movements with such +curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia leant back in her chair as the newcomer carefully closed the +door behind her and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Macroy, what’s biting you?” she asked inelegantly. +</p> + +<p> +The words did not seem to harmonise with the delicate refinement of +face, and not for the first time did Milly Macroy look at the girl +wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s the old nut?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“An admirer,” replied Thalia calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“You do attract ’em, kid,” commented Milly Macroy, with some envy, and +there was a little pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Thalia. “You haven’t come here to discuss my amours, +have you?” +</p> + +<p> +Milly smiled furtively. +</p> + +<p> +“If amours is French for boys, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve come to +have a straight talk with you, Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Straight talks are meat and drink to me,” said Thalia Drummond. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember the money that went out by registered post last +Friday to the Sellinger Corporation?” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose you know that they claim that when the package +arrived it contained nothing but paper?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” asked Thalia. “Mr. Brabazon has said nothing to me about +it,” and she returned the other’s scrutinising glance without +faltering. +</p> + +<p> +“I packed that money in the envelope,” said Milly Macroy slowly, “and +you had it to check. There’s only you and me in this business, Miss +Drummond, and one of us pinched the money, and I’ll swear it wasn’t +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it must be me,” said Thalia with an innocent smile. “Really, +Macroy, that’s a fairly serious accusation to make against an innocent +female.” +</p> + +<p> +The admiration in Milly’s eyes increased. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a Thorough-Bad, if ever there was one!” she said. “Now, look +here, kid, let’s put all our cards on the table. A month ago, soon +after you came to the bank, there was a hundred note missing from the +Foreign Exchange desk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Thalia when she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I happen to know that you had it and that it was changed by you +at Bilbury’s in the Strand. I can tell you the number if you want to +know.” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia swung round and looked at the other under lowered brows. +</p> + +<p> +“What have we here?” she asked in mock consternation. “A female +sleuth! Heavens, I am indeed undone!” +</p> + +<p> +The extravagant mockery of it all took Milly aback. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got ice in your brain!” she said. She leant forward and laid +her hand on the girl’s arm. “There may be trouble over this Sellinger +business, and you will want all the friends you can get.” +</p> + +<p> +“So will you, for the matter of that,” said Thalia coolly. “You +handled the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you took it,” said the other, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Don’t +let us have any argument about it, Drummond. If we stick together +there’ll be no trouble at all—I can swear that the envelope was +sealed in my presence and that the money was there.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a dancing light of amusement in Thalia Drummond’s eyes and +she laughed silently. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” she said, with a little shrug of her shoulders. “Let it +go at that. Now, I suppose, having saved me from ruin, you’re going to +ask me a favour? I’ll set your mind at rest about the money. I took it +because I had a good home for it. I need money frequently and anyway +there have been lots of postal robberies lately. There was a long +article in the paper about it the other day. Now go ahead.” +</p> + +<p> +Milly Macroy, who had not a slight acquaintance with the criminal +classes, stared at the girl in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re ice all right,” she nodded, “but you’ve got to cut out this +cheap pilfering, otherwise you’re liable to spoil a real big thing and +I can’t afford to see it spoilt. If you want a share of big money +you’ve got to come in with people who are working big—do you get +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I get it,” said Thalia, “and who are your collaborators?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Macroy did not recognise the term but answered discreetly: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a gentleman I know——” +</p> + +<p> +“Say ‘man’,” said Thalia. “Gentleman always reminds me of a tailor’s +ad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, a man if you like,” said the patient Miss Macroy. “He’s a +friend of mine and he’s been watching you for a week or two, and he +thinks you’re the kind of clever girl who might make a lot of money +without trouble. I told him about the other affair and he wants to see +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another admirer?” asked Thalia Drummond with a lift of her perfect +eyebrows, and Macroy’s face darkened. +</p> + +<p> +“There’ll be none of that, you understand, Drummond,” she said +decisively. “This fellow and I are sort of—engaged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forbid,” said Thalia Drummond piously, “that I should come +between two loving hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you needn’t be sarcastic either,” said Macroy, redder still. “I +tell you that there’s to be no lovey-dovey stuff in this. It’s real +business, you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia played with her paper-knife. Presently she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I don’t want to come into your combination?” +</p> + +<p> +Milly Macroy looked suspiciously at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and have a bit of dinner after the bank closes,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing but invitations to dinner,” murmured Thalia and the +nimble-witted Milly Macroy jumped at the truth. +</p> + +<p> +“The old boy asked you to dinner, did he?” she demanded. “Well, ain’t +that luck!” She whistled and her eyes brightened. She was about to +offer a confidence, but changed her mind. “He’s got loads of money out +of money-lending. My dear, I can see you with a diamond necklace in a +week or two!” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia straightened herself and took up her pen. +</p> + +<p> +“Pearls are my weakness,” she said. “All right, Macroy, I’ll see you +to-night,” and she went on working. +</p> + +<p> +Milly Macroy lingered. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, you’re not going to tell this gentleman what I said about +my being engaged to him, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Brab’s bell,” said Thalia, rising and taking up her notebook +as a buzzer sounded. “No, I’m not going to discuss anything of the +kind—I hate fairy stories anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Macroy looked after the retreating figure of the girl with an +expression which was not friendly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Brabazon was sitting at his desk when the girl came in, and handed +her a sealed envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“Send this by hand,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia looked at the address and nodded, and then looked at Mr. +Brabazon with a new interest. Truly the Crimson Circle was recruited +from many and various classes. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch15"> +Chapter XV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia Joins the Gang</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Thalia Drummond</span> was almost the last of the staff to leave the bank +that night, and she stood on the steps looking idly from left to right +as she pulled on her gloves. If she saw the man who was watching her +from the opposite side of the road she did not reveal the fact by so +much as a glance. Presently her eyes lighted upon Milly waiting a few +yards up the street, and she walked toward her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been a long time, Drummond,” grumbled Miss Macroy. “You +mustn’t keep my friend waiting, you know. He doesn’t like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll get over that,” said Thalia. “I do not run to time-table where +men are concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +She fell in by Milly’s side and they walked a hundred yards along the +busy thoroughfare before they turned into Reeder Street. +</p> + +<p> +The restaurants in Reeder Street have taken to themselves names which +are designed to suggest the gaiety and epicurean wonders of Paris. The +“Moulin Gris” was a small, deep shop which, with the aid of numerous +mirrors and the application of gold leaf, had managed to create an +atmosphere of cramped splendour. +</p> + +<p> +The tables were set for dinner and empty, for it was two hours before +the meal, and to the proprietors of the “Moulin Gris” such a function +as afternoon tea was unknown. They went up a narrow stairway to +another dining-room on the first floor, and a man who was seated at +one of the tables rose briskly to meet them. He was a sleek, dark, +young man, his beautifully brilliantined hair was brushed back from +his forehead, and he was dressed, if not in the height of fashion, at +least in the height of the fashion which he favoured. +</p> + +<p> +A faint odour of <i>l’origan</i>, a soft large hand, a pair of bright +unwinking eyes, were the first impressions which Thalia received. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, sit down, Miss Drummond,” he said brightly. “Waiter, bring +that tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is Thalia Drummond,” said Miss Macroy, unnecessarily it seemed. +</p> + +<p> +“We needn’t be introduced,” laughed the young man. “I’ve heard a lot +about you, Miss Drummond. My name’s Barnet.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Flush’ Barnet,” said Thalia, and he seemed surprised and not +ill-pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve heard of me, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s heard of everything,” said Miss Macroy in resignation, “and +what’s more,” she added significantly, “she knows Marl, and is dining +with him to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Barnet looked sharply from one to the other, then back again at Milly +Macroy. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you told her anything?” he asked. There was a note of menace in +his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t have to tell her anything,” said Miss Macroy recklessly. +“She knows it all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you tell her?” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“About Marl? No, I thought you’d tell her that.” +</p> + +<p> +The waiter brought the tea at that moment and there was a silence +until he had gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’m a plain-spoken man,” said “Flush” Barnet. “And I’m going to +tell you what I call you.” +</p> + +<p> +“This sounds interesting,” said the girl, never taking her eyes from +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I call you Thorough-Bad Thalia. How’s that? Good, eh?” said Mr. +Barnet, leaning back in his chair and surveying her. “Thorough-Bad +Thalia! You’re a naughty girl! I was in court the day old Froyant +charged you with pinching!” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head waggishly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re as full of information as last year’s almanac,” said Thalia +Drummond coolly. “I suppose you didn’t bring me here to exchange +compliments?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t,” admitted “Flush” Barnet, and the jealous Miss Macroy +recognised, by certain signs, the fascination that the girl was +casting over her lover. “I brought you here to talk business. We’re +all friends here, and we’re all in the same old business. I want to +tell you straight away that I’m not one of your little thieving +crooks, who lives from hand to mouth.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke very correctly, but aspirated his “h’s” just a trifle heavily +Thalia duly remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“I have people behind me who can find money to any amount if the job +is good enough, and you’re spoiling a good pitch, Thalia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am, am I?” said Thalia. “Admitting I am all you think I am, in +what way do I spoil the pitch?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barnet rolled his head from side to side with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear girl,” he said with good-natured reproach. “How long do you +think you’re going to last, taking money from envelopes and sending on +old bits of paper? Eh? If my friend Brabazon hadn’t got the idea into +his silly head that the fraud was worked in the post, you’d have had +the police in your office in no time. And when I say my friend +Brabazon, I’m not being funny, see?” +</p> + +<p> +Here, he evidently thought he had said too much, though he found it +very difficult indeed to leave the question of his friendship with the +austere banker. Challenged, he might have said more, but Thalia +offered no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’m going to tell you something,” he leant over the table and +regulated his voice. “Milly and me have been working Brabazon’s bank +for two months. There’s a big lot of money to be got, but not out of +the bank—Brabazon is a friend of mine—but it can be done through one +of the clients, and the man with the biggest balance is Marl.” +</p> + +<p> +Her lips curled for the second time that day. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said quietly. “Marl’s balance +wouldn’t buy a row of beans.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her incredulously, then looked at Milly Macroy with a +frown. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me that he had the best part of a hundred thousand——” +</p> + +<p> +“So he has,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“He had until to-day,” replied Thalia. “But this afternoon Mr. +Brabazon went out—I think he went to the Bank of England, because the +notes were all new. He sent for me and I saw them stacked up on his +desk. He told me he was closing Marl’s account, and that he was not +the kind of man he wanted as a client. Then he took the money and +called on Marl, I think, for when he came back just before the bank +closed he handed me Marl’s cheque.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘I’ve settled that account, Miss Drummond,’ he said. ‘I don’t think +we’ll be troubled with that blackguard again.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he know about Marl asking you out to dinner?” asked Milly, but +the girl shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barnet said nothing. He was sitting back in his chair, fondling +his chin, with a faraway look in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“A big amount, was it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Sixty-two thousand,” replied the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“And it is in his house?” said Barnet, his face pink with excitement. +“Sixty-two thousand! Did you hear that, Milly? And you’re dining with +him to-night?” said “Flush” Barnet slowly and significantly. “Now, +what about it?” +</p> + +<p> +She met his gaze without flinching. +</p> + +<p> +“What about what?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the chance of a lifetime,” he said, husky with emotion. +“You’re going to the house. You’re not above stringing the old man +along, are you, Thalia?” +</p> + +<p> +She was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I know the place,” said “Flush” Barnet, “one of those quaint little +houses in Kensington that cost a fortune to keep up. Marisburg Place, +Bayswater Road.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know the address pretty well,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“He keeps three menservants,” said “Flush” Barnet, “but they’re +usually out any night he happens to be entertaining a lady friend. Do +you get me?” +</p> + +<p> +“But he’s not entertaining me in his house,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with a little bit of supper after the show, eh?” +asked Barnet. “Suppose he puts it up to you, and you say yes. There’ll +be no servants in the house when you get back. That I’ll take my oath. +I’ve studied Marl.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you expect me to do? Rob him?” asked Thalia. “Stick a gun +under his nose and say, ‘Deliver your pieces of eight’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a fool,” said Mr. Barnet, startled out of his pose of +elegant gentleman. “You’re to do nothing but have your supper and come +away. Keep him amused, make him laugh. You needn’t be frightened +because I’ll be in the house soon after you, and if there’s any +trouble I’ll be on hand.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was playing with her teaspoon, her eyes fixed on the +tablecloth. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose he doesn’t send his servants away?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can bank on that,” interrupted Mr. Barnet. “Moses! There never +was such a wonderful opportunity! Do you agree?” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“It is too big for me. Maybe you’re right and I’m likely to get into +trouble, but it seems to me that petty pilfering is my long suit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Barnet in disgust. “You’re mad! Now’s your time to make a +harvest, my dear. You’re not known to the police. You’re not under the +limelight like me. Are you going to do it?” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her eyes again to the cloth and again fidgeted with her +spoon nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” she said with a sudden shrug, “I might as well be hung +for a sheep as a lamb.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or for a good share of sixty thousand as for a miserable couple of +hundred, eh?” said Barnet jovially, and beckoned the waiter. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia left the restaurant and turned homeward. She had to pass the +bank, and it was not good policy, she thought, to hail a taxicab until +she had left the neighbourhood, where Mr. Brabazon’s grave eyes might +observe her extravagance. She had turned into the stream of +pedestrians that thronged Regent Street at this hour when she felt a +touch on her arm, and turned. +</p> + +<p> +A young man was walking by her side, a good-looking, keen-faced young +man who did not smile ingratiatingly as others had done who had nudged +her arm in Regent Street, nor did he inquire if she were going the +same way as he. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia!” +</p> + +<p> +She turned quickly at the sound of the voice, and for a second her +self-possession failed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Beardmore!” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s face was flushed and he was obviously embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +“I only wanted to speak to you for a moment. I have waited for a week +for the opportunity,” he said hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +“You knew I was at Brabazon’s—who told you?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr,” he said, and when he saw the smile curl on the +girl’s lips, he went on: “Old Parr isn’t a bad sort, really. He has +never said another word against you, Thalia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another!” she quoted, “but does it really matter? And now, Mr. +Beardmore, I really must go. I have a very important engagement.” +</p> + +<p> +But he held fast to her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia, won’t you tell me why you did it?” he asked quietly. “Who is +behind you?” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a reason for your keeping this extraordinary company,” he +went on, when she stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“What extraordinary company?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“You have just come from a restaurant,” he said. “You have been there +with a man called ‘Flush’ Barnet, a notorious crook and a man who has +served a term of penal servitude. The woman with you was Milly Macroy, +a confederate of his who was concerned in the Darlington Co-Operative +robbery and has also served a term of imprisonment. At present she is +engaged at Brabazon’s Bank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said the girl again. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you don’t know the character of these people?” urged Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know them?” she asked calmly. “Am I wrong in supposing +that you were not alone in your—vigil? Were you accompanied by the +admirable Mr. Parr? I see you were. Why, you are almost a policeman +yourself, Mr. Beardmore.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was staggered. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you realise that it is Parr’s duty to inform your employer that +you keep that kind of company?” he asked. “For heaven’s sake, Thalia, +take a sane view of your position.” +</p> + +<p> +But she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forbid that I should interfere with the duty of a responsible +police officer,” she said, “but on the whole I’d rather Mr. Parr +didn’t. That at least is a sign of grace,” she smiled. “Yes, I’d much +rather he didn’t. I don’t mind the police speaking to me for my good +because it is only right and proper that they should try to lead the +weak from their sinful ways. But an employer who attempts to reform an +erring girl might be a bit of a nuisance, don’t you think?” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Thalia, you’re much too clever for the kind of company you’re +keeping and for the kind of life you’re drifting to,” he added +earnestly. “I know I have no right to interfere, but perhaps I could +help you. Particularly,” he hesitated, “if you have done something +which places you in the power of these people.” +</p> + +<p> +She put out her hand with a rare smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” she said sweetly, and left him feeling something of a +fool. +</p> + +<p> +The girl walked quickly through Burlington Arcade to Piccadilly and +entered a taxi. The block of mansions at which she alighted was +situated in the Marylebone Road and was a distinct improvement on +Lexington Street. +</p> + +<p> +The liveried porter took her up in the elevator to the third floor, +and she let herself into a flat which was both prettily and +expensively furnished. +</p> + +<p> +She pressed a bell, and it was answered by a staid middle-aged woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Martha,” she said, “I shan’t want any tea, thank you. Lay out my blue +evening gown and telephone to Waltham’s Garage and tell them that I +shall want a car to be here at five minutes before half past seven.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Drummond’s wages from the bank were exactly £4 a week. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch16"> +Chapter XVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Mr. Marl Goes Out</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">So</span> you’ve come, eh?” said Mr. Marl, rising to greet the girl. “My +word, but you look smart! And you look lovely, my dear, too!” +</p> + +<p> +He took both her hands in his and led her into the little gold and +white drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Lovely!” he repeated in an almost hushed voice. “I can tell you I was +a little bit scared about taking you to the Ritz-Carlton. You don’t +mind my frankness, do you—have a cigarette?” +</p> + +<p> +He fumbled in the tail-pocket of his dress coat, produced a large gold +case and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“You thought I’d turn up in one of Morne & Gillingsworth’s six guinea +models, eh?” she laughed as she lit the cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I did, my dear. I’ve had a lot of unhappy experiences,” +explained Marl as he seated himself heavily in an arm-chair. “I’ve had +’em turn up in queer clothes, I can tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you make a practice of entertaining the young and the fair?” +Thalia had seated herself on the big padded fireguard and was looking +down at him under her half-closed lids. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Mr. Marl complacently, rubbing his hands. “I’m not so old +that I don’t get some pleasure out of ladies’ society. But you’re +stunning!” +</p> + +<p> +He was a blonde, red-faced man with suspiciously brown hair, +suspiciously even teeth, and for this evening he had acquired a waist +which seemed wholly unreal. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re going to dinner and then we’ll go on and see ‘The Boys and the +Girls’ at the Winter Palace,” he said, “and then,” he hesitated, “what +do you say to a little supper?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A little supper? I don’t take supper,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can peck a bit of fruit, I suppose?” suggested Mr. Marl. +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” asked the girl steadily. “Most of the restaurants are closed +before the theatres are out, aren’t they?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t come back here? You’re not a +prude, my dear, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much,” she confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see you home in my car,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got my own car, thank you,” said the girl, and Mr. Marl’s eyes +opened. Then he began to laugh steadily at first, and his laughter +ended in an asthmatical paroxysm. Presently he gasped: “Oh, you wicked +little devil!” +</p> + +<p> +The evening was an interesting one for Thalia, more interesting by +reason of the fact that she caught a glimpse of Mr. “Flush” Barnet in +the hall of the hotel as she passed through. +</p> + +<p> +It was after the theatre was over and they were standing in the +vestibule, waiting for the lift-man to call their car, that Thalia +showed some symptom of hesitation, but the eloquent Mr. Felix Marl +overcame whatever reluctance she felt, and as the clock was striking +the half hour after eleven she passed into the hall, not failing to +notice that Mr. Marl did not ring for his servants, but let himself in +with his own latchkey. +</p> + +<p> +The supper was laid in a rose-panelled dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +“I will help you, my dear,” said Mr. Marl. “We won’t bother about the +servants.” But she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can eat nothing, and I think I’ll go home now,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, wait,” he begged. “I want to have a little talk with you about +your boss. I can do you a lot of good in that firm—at the bank, +Thalia. Who called you Thalia?” +</p> + +<p> +“My godfathers and godmothers, M. or N.” said Thalia solemnly, and Mr. +Marl squeaked his delight at her humour. +</p> + +<p> +He was passing behind her, ostensibly to reach one of the dishes which +were set on the table, when he stooped and, had she not slipped from +his grasp, would have kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll go home,” said Thalia. +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish!” Mr. Marl was annoyed, and when Mr. Marl was annoyed he +forgot that he made any pretensions to gentle birth. “Come and sit +down.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him long and thoughtfully, and then, turning suddenly, +went to the door, and turned the handle. It was locked. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you had better open this door, Mr. Marl,” she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think not,” chuckled Mr. Marl. “Now, Thalia, be the dear, good +little girl I thought you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hate to dissipate any illusions you may have about my +character,” said Thalia coolly. “You’ll open that door, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +He ambled toward the door, feeling in his pocket, then before she +could realise his intention he had seized her in his arms. He was a +powerful man, a head taller than she, and his big hands gripped her +arms like steel clamps. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go,” said Thalia steadily. She did not lose her nerve nor show +the least sign of fear. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he felt her tense muscles relax. He had conquered. +</p> + +<p> +With a quick intake of breath he released his hold of the sullen girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me have some supper,” she said, and he beamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, my dear, you are being the little girl I—what’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +The last was a squeak of terror. +</p> + +<p> +She had strolled slowly to the table and had taken up the brocade bag. +He had watched her and thought she was seeking a handkerchief. Instead +she had produced a small, black, egg-shaped thing, and with a flick of +her left hand had pulled out a small pin and dropped the pin on to the +table. He knew what it was—he had dabbled in army supplies and had +seen many Mills bombs. +</p> + +<p> +“Put it down—no, no, put the pin in, you young fool!” he whimpered. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry,” she said coolly. “I have a spare pin in my bag—open +that door!” +</p> + +<p> +His hand shook like a man with palsy as he fumbled at the keyhole. +Then he turned and blinked at her. +</p> + +<p> +“A Mills bomb!” he mumbled, and fell back an obese mass of quivering +flesh against the delicate panelling. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly she nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“A Mills bomb,” she said softly, and went out, still gripping the +lever of the deadly egg-like thing. He followed her to the door and +slammed it after her, then went shakily up the stairs to his bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +“Flush” Barnet, standing in the shadow of a clothes-press, heard the +click of locks and the snap of a bolt as Mr. Marl entered his room. +</p> + +<p> +The house was still. Through the thick door of Mr. Marl’s bedroom no +sound came. There was no transom to the door, and the only evidence +that there was somebody in his room was afforded by a fret of light in +the ceiling of the passage, which came through a ventilator in the +wall of the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +During the war this house had been used as an officers’ convalescent +home, and certain hygienic arrangements had been introduced, which +were more useful than beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +“Flush” crept softly in his stockinged feet to the door and listened. +He thought he heard the man talking to himself and looked around for +some means by which he could obtain a view of the room. There was a +small oaken table in the corridor and he placed this against the wall +and mounted. His eyes came to the level of the ventilator and he +looked down upon Mr. Marl pacing the room in his shirt-sleeves, +obviously disturbed. Then “Flush” Barnet heard a sound. Just a faint +“hush-hush” of feet on a carpet, and he slipped down, walked quickly +along the corridor, passing the head of the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +The hall below was in darkness, but he felt rather than saw a figure +on the stairway. Whether it was man or woman he could not say, and did +not stop to discover. It might be one of the servants returning +furtively—servants did not always stay away when they were bidden. +“Flush” passed to the farther end of the corridor and from an angle in +the wall watched. He saw nobody pass the head of the stairs, but there +was no background. After a while he crept back again. There was +nothing to be gained by forcing the door of Marl’s bedroom, even if it +were possible. He had had time to inspect the house at his leisure, +and he had already decided upon investigating the little safe in the +library, for Mr. Marl’s own room had drawn blank. +</p> + +<p> +The “investigation,” which took two hours and the employment of one of +the best sets of tools in the profession, was not unprofitable. But it +did not reveal the huge sum of money which he anticipated. He +hesitated. The night was too far through to make an attempt on the +bedroom, even if he had not already searched it from wall to wall. He +folded his kit and slipped it into one pocket, his loot into another, +and went upstairs again. There was no sound from Marl’s room, but the +light was still on. He tried to look through the keyhole, but the key +was still there. The only inducement there was for him to enter the +room was the possibility that the money was in the man’s clothes. This +likelihood was remote, he thought. Possibly Marl had taken it to some +safe deposit—a contingency which Barnet had foreseen. +</p> + +<p> +He went slowly down the stairs, through the hall and the butler’s +pantry to the side door, where he had left his boots, his overcoat and +his shiny silk hat, for he was in evening dress. Then he stole softly +forth along the covered passage-way running by the side of the house. +Here a door opened into the little forecourt of Marl’s house. He +reached the garden and his hand was on the gate when somebody touched +him and he spun round. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you ‘Flush,’ ” said a well-remembered voice. “Inspector Parr. +You may remember me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Parr!” gasped the bewildered Barnet, and with an oath wrenched +himself free and leapt through the gate, but the three policemen who +were waiting for him were not so easy to dispose of, and they marched +“Flush” Barnet to the nearest police station, a worried man. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Parr conducted a search of his own. Accompanied by a +detective he made his way to the hall of the house and up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the only room occupied apparently,” he said, and knocked at +the door. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Go along and see if you can rouse any of the servants,” said Parr. +</p> + +<p> +The man came back with the startling information that there were no +servants in the house. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s somebody here,” said the old inspector, and flashing his lamp +along the corridor he saw the table, and with an agility remarkable in +one of his age, he leapt up and peered through the ventilator. +</p> + +<p> +“I can just see somebody asleep,” he said. “Hi! Wake up!” he called, +but there was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +Hammering on the door did not produce any response. +</p> + +<p> +“Go down and see if you can find a hatchet, we’ll break open the +door,” said Parr. “I don’t like this.” +</p> + +<p> +Hatchet there was none, but they found a hammer. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you show a light, Mr. Parr?” asked the man, and the inspector +flashed his lamp on the door. It was a white door—white except for +the Crimson Circle affixed to a panel as by a rubber stamp. +</p> + +<p> +“Break in the door,” said Parr, breathing heavily. +</p> + +<p> +For five minutes they smashed at a panel before they finally hammered +it through, and the sleeper within gave no sign of consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +Parr reached his hand through the door, turned the key and, by dint of +stretching, found the bolt at the top. He slipped into the room. The +light was still burning and its rays fell across the man on the bed, +who lay upon his back, a twisted smile on his face, most obviously +dead. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch17"> +Chapter XVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Blower of Bubbles</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was long after midnight and Derrick Yale was sitting in his +pretty little study—he lived in a flat overlooking the park—when the +knock came to the door and he rose to admit Inspector Parr. +</p> + +<p> +Parr related the incident of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +“But why didn’t you tell me?” asked Derrick a little reproachfully, +and then laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I always seem to be butting +in on your affairs. But how came the murderer to escape? You say you +had had the house surrounded for two hours. Did the girl come out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly; she came out and drove home.” +</p> + +<p> +“And nobody else went in?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t like to swear that,” said Parr. “Whoever was in the house +had probably arrived long before Marl returned from the theatre. I +have since discovered that there was a way out through the garage at +the back of the house. When I said the house was surrounded that was +an exaggeration. There was a way through the back garden which I did +not know. I didn’t even suspect there were gardens there. Undoubtedly +he went through the garage door.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suspect the girl at all?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“But why were you surrounding Marl’s house at all?” asked Derrick Yale +seriously. +</p> + +<p> +The answer was as unexpected as it was sensational. +</p> + +<p> +“Because Marl has been under police observation ever since he came +back to London,” said Parr. “In fact, ever since I discovered that he +was the man who wrote the letter, the scrap of which I found and which +I compared last week with his writing—I asked him for the address of +his tailor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marl?” said the other incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what there was between old man Beardmore and Marl, or +what brought him to the house. I’ve been trying to reconstruct the +scene. You may remember that when Marl came to the house on a visit he +was suddenly seized with a panic.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember,” nodded Yale. “Jack Beardmore told me about it. Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“He refused to stay at the house, said he was going back to London,” +said Parr. “As a matter of fact, he went no farther than Kingside, +which is a station some eight or nine miles away. He sent his bag on +to London and came back by road. He was probably the person whom the +murderer saw in the wood that night. Now why had he come back if he +was so scared that he ran away in the first place? And why did he +write that letter for delivery in the night when he had every +opportunity to tell James Beardmore by day, when he was with him?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +“How was Marl killed?” asked Yale. +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a mystery to me. The murderer could not possibly have entered +the room. I had an interview with ‘Flush’ Barnet—as yet he knows +nothing about the murder—and he admits he broke in for the purpose of +burglary. He says he heard the sound of somebody moving about the +house, and very naturally hid himself. He also says he heard a strange +hissing sound, like air escaping from a pipe. Another remarkable clue +was a round wet patch on the pillow, within a few inches of the dead +man’s hand. It was exactly circular. At first I thought it was a +symbol of the Crimson Circle, until I discovered another patch on the +counterpane. The doctor has not been able to diagnose the cause of +death, but the motive is clear. According to his banker—I’ve just +been talking to Brabazon on the telephone—he drew a large sum of +money from the bank yesterday. In fact, Brabazon closed his account. +They had a quarrel over something or other. The safe was of course +opened by ‘Flush’ Barnet, but there was no money found on him when he +was searched at the police station. Curiously enough, we did discover +several little oddments that ‘Flush’ had picked up—now, who took the +money?” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale paced the floor, his hands behind him, his chin on his +breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know anything of Brabazon?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The other did not reply immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“Only that he is a banker and does a lot of foreign work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he solvent?” asked Derrick Yale bluntly, and the inspector raised +his dull eyes slowly until they were on a level with the other’s. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, “and I don’t mind telling you that we’ve had one or two +complaints about his methods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were they good friends—Marl and Brabazon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fairly good,” was the hesitating reply. “The impression I have from +reports is that Marl had some hold over Brabazon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Brabazon was insolvent,” mused Derrick Yale. “And this afternoon +Marl closes his account. In what circumstances? Did he come to the +bank?” +</p> + +<p> +Briefly the detective explained what had happened. It seemed that +there was precious little that did happen at Brabazon’s bank that he +did not know. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale was beginning to respect this man, whom at first he had +regarded, with a good-natured scorn, as a little stupid. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if it would be possible for me to go to Marl’s house +to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came to suggest that,” said the other. “In fact, I kept a cab +waiting at the door with that idea.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale did not speak during the journey to Bayswater, and it was +not until he stood in the hall of the house in Marisburg Place that he +broke the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“We ought to find a small steel cylinder somewhere,” he said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +The policeman standing on duty in the hall came forward and saluted +the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“We found an iron bottle in the garage, sir?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried Derrick Yale triumphantly. “I thought so!” +</p> + +<p> +He almost ran up the stairs ahead of the detective and paused in the +passage, which was now lighted. The little oak table stood against the +ventilator and toward that he moved. Then he went down on his hands +and knees and sniffed the carpet. Presently he choked and coughed and +got up, red in the face. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see that cylinder,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They brought it to him. The policeman’s description of it as a bottle +was nearer the truth. It was an iron bottle, at the end of which was +a small pipe to which was attached a tiny turn-key. +</p> + +<p> +“And now there ought to be a cup somewhere,” he said, looking round, +“unless he brought it in a bottle.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a small glass bottle in the garage near this, sir,” said +the policeman who had found it, “it is broken, though.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring it to me quickly,” said Yale. “And I can only hope that it +isn’t so completely smashed that none of its contents are left.” +</p> + +<p> +The stout Mr. Parr was regarding him sombrely. +</p> + +<p> +“What is all this about?” he asked, and Derrick Yale chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“A new way of committing a murder, my dear Mr. Parr,” he said airily, +“now let us go into the room.” +</p> + +<p> +The body of Marl lay on the bed covered by a sheet and the circular +patch of wet on the pillow had not dried. The windows were open and a +fitful wind kept the curtains fluttering. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you can’t smell it here,” said Yale speaking to himself, +and again went on his knees and nosed the carpet. And again he coughed +and rose hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +By this time they had returned with the lower half of a glass bottle. +It contained a few drops of liquid, and this Yale poured into his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Soap and water,” he said; “I thought it would be. And now I’ll +explain how Marl was killed. Your thief, ‘Flush’ Barnet, heard a +hissing sound. It was the sound of a heavy gas escaping from this +cylinder. I may be wrong, but I should imagine there is enough poison +gas in that little iron bottle to settle your account and mine. It is +still lying on the floor, by the way. It is one of those heavy gases +which descend.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did it kill Marl? Did they pump it through the grating on to +his head?” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a much simpler and a much more deadly method which the Crimson +Circle employed,” he said quietly. “They blew bubbles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bubbles!” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The end of this cylinder—you can still feel the slime of the soap +upon it—was first dipped into the soap solution, then thrust through +the grating. The tap was turned down and a bubble formed, which was +shaken off. From the ventilator,” he ran outside and jumped on to the +table, “yes, I thought so,” he said, “he could see Marl’s head. Two or +three of the bubbles must have been failures. One struck the pillow, +but I should imagine that that was blown after his death; one struck +the wall, you will find the wet patch, but one, and probably more, +burst on his face. He must have been killed almost instantaneously.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr could only gape. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it all out on the way here. The circular patch on the +pillow reminded me of my own boyish exploits and their disastrous +effect when I started blowing bubbles in the bedroom. And then when +you mentioned the ventilator and the hissing noise, I was perfectly +certain that my theory was right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we smelt no gas when we came into the room,” said Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“The wind may have blown away the fumes,” said Derrick Yale. “But +apart from that, the weight of the gas would send it to the floor, and +by its own density it would spread evenly—look!” He struck a match, +shielded it for a moment until it caught light, and then slowly +brought it down to the floor level. An inch from the carpet the match +was suddenly extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Inspector Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what about searching the place? Perhaps I can be of use,” +suggested Yale, but his offer of help did not meet with any very +gracious response. +</p> + +<p> +A small police audience, which had listened awe-stricken whilst Yale +had developed his theory, could understand the inspector’s feelings. +Apparently Yale did, too, for with a good-humoured laugh he made his +excuses and went home. There are moments when the head-quarters police +should be left alone with their own emotions. Nobody realised this +more than Derrick Yale. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch18"> +Chapter XVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“Flush” Barnet’s Story</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Inspector Parr</span>, after a further search, proceeded to the nearest +police station to interview Mr. “Flush” Barnet. +</p> + +<p> +“Flush,” a depressed and weary man, had no illuminating information to +give. +</p> + +<p> +The proceeds of his robbery lay upon the station-sergeant’s table, a +miscellaneous collection of rings and watches, a perfectly valueless +bank-book—valueless to “Flush,” at any rate—and a silver flask. But +the most surprising circumstance was that in “Flush” Barnet’s pocket +were two brand new bank-notes for a hundred pounds, which he insisted +stoutly were his own property. +</p> + +<p> +Now burglars, and particularly the type of burglar that “Flush” Barnet +was, are notoriously improvident people. They do not work whilst they +have money, and with two hundred pounds in his possession, it is +certain that “Flush” Barnet would not have attempted to break into +Marisburg Place. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re my own, I tell you, Mr. Parr,” he protested, “would I tell +you a lie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you would,” said Inspector Parr without heat. “If they are +your own, where did you get them?” +</p> + +<p> +“They were given to me by a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you light a fire in the library?” asked Parr unexpectedly, +and “Flush” Barnet started. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I was cold,” he said after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” said Inspector Parr, and then as though speaking his thoughts +aloud, “he has two hundred of his own, he breaks into a house, he +burgles a safe and lights a fire. Now, why did he light the fire? Why +did he light the fire? To burn something he’d found in the safe!” +</p> + +<p> +“Flush” Barnet listened without offering any comment, but he was +visibly distressed. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore,” said Parr, “you were paid to break into Marl’s house and +you got two hundred for pinching something from his safe and burning +it. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I died this moment——” began “Flush” Barnet. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d go to hell,” said the inspector dispassionately, “where all +liars go. Who is your pal, Barnet? You’d better tell me, because I’m +in two minds whether I shall charge you with the murder——” +</p> + +<p> +“Murder!” almost screamed “Flush” Barnet, as he sprang to his feet. +“What do you mean? I haven’t committed a murder!” +</p> + +<p> +“Marl’s dead, that’s all; found dead in his bed.” +</p> + +<p> +He left the prisoner in a state of mental prostration, and when he +returned in the early hours of the morning to renew his inquisition, +“Flush” Barnet told him all. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything about Crimson Circles, Mr. Parr,” he said, “but +this is the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +He added a pious wish that Providence would deal hardly with him if he +departed from veracity. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m keeping company with a young lady at Brabazon’s bank. One night +when she was working late, I was waiting for her when a gentleman came +out of the side entrance of the bank and called me. I was surprised to +hear him mention my name, and I nearly dropped dead when I saw his +face.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was Mr. Brabazon?” suggested Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, sir. He asked me into his private office. I thought +he’d got something against Milly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said Parr, when the man paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve got to save myself, haven’t I? And I suppose I’d better +speak the whole truth. He told me that Marl was blackmailing him, and +that Marl had some letters of his which he kept in his private safe, +and offered me a thousand if I’d get them. That’s the truth. And then +he gave me an idea that Marl kept a lot of money in the house. He +didn’t exactly say so, but that is what he hinted. He knew I’d been +inside for burglary, he’d made inquiries about me, and said that I was +the right kind of man. Well, sir, I went round and took a squint at +the place, and it seemed to me that it was a bit difficult. There were +always men servants in the house, except when Mr. Marl was +entertaining ladies to supper,” he grinned. “I’d have given up the +job, only there’s a young lady in the office that Marl was sweet on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond?” suggested Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, sir,” nodded “Flush.” “It was what you might call an +act of Providence, him being sweet on her, and when I found that he’d +invited her to dinner, I thought that was a good opportunity to get +in. It seemed money for nothing when I found out that he’d drawn his +bank balance. I opened the safe—that was easy—and I found the +envelope, but it had no papers, only a photograph of a man and a woman +on a rock. I think it was a photograph of some place abroad, for there +were lots of mountains in the background, and he seemed to be pushing +her over and she was holding on to a bit of tree. Maybe it was one of +those cinema pictures. Anyway, I burnt it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Inspector Parr. “And that is all?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all, sir. I never found any money.” +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock, with a warrant in his pocket, and accompanied by two +detectives, Inspector Parr made a call at the block of flats where +Brabazon had his residence. +</p> + +<p> +A servant in night attire opened the door to them and indicated the +banker’s room. The door was locked, but Parr kicked it open without +ceremony. The room, however, was empty. An open window and a fire +escape suggested the method by which the eminent banker had made his +get-away, and the fact that the bed had not been slept in and that +there was no sign of disorder in the room, showed that he had gone +hours before the detective’s arrival. +</p> + +<p> +By the side of the bed there was a telephone, and Parr called the +exchange. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you find if any message came through to this number during the +night?” he asked. “I am Inspector Parr, of police head-quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two,” was the reply. “I put them through myself. One from +Bayswater——” +</p> + +<p> +“That was mine,” said the Inspector. “What was the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“From the Western Exchange—at 2.30.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the inspector grimly, and hung up the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his companions and rubbed his big nose irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond is going to get another job,” he said. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch19"> +Chapter XIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia Accepts an Offer</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> took over a week to settle the preliminaries of Brabazon’s +insolvency, and at the end of that time, Thalia walked from the bank +with a week’s salary in her little leather bag, and no immediate +prospects of employment. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr had not minced his words, which he had addressed to her +before an impressed audience. +</p> + +<p> +“Only the fact that I saw you come out of Marl’s house and saw him +close the door on you, saves you from a serious charge,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“If it had only saved me from a lecture also, I should have been +pleased,” said Thalia coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of her?” asked Parr, as the girl disappeared through +the swing doors of the office. +</p> + +<p> +“She rather puzzles me,” it was Derrick Yale to whom he had addressed +his question. “And the more I think of her, the more I am puzzled. The +woman Macroy says that she has been engaged in pilfering since she has +been at the bank, but there is no proof of that. In fact, the only +person who could supply the proof is our absent friend, Brabazon. Why +didn’t you call her as a witness in the prosecution of Barnet?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be a case of Barnet’s word against hers,” said the +detective, shaking his head, “and the case against Barnet was so clear +that I didn’t want any further evidence than my own eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale was frowning thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” he said, half to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if this girl could give us a little more information about +the Crimson Circle than we have at present. I’m half inclined to +engage her.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr muttered something under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you think I’m mad, but really I have method in my madness. +There is nothing to steal in my office; she would be under my eye all +the time, and if she were in communication with the Circle, I should +certainly know all about it. Besides, she interests me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you shake hands with her?” asked Parr curiously, and the +other laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“That is why she interests me. I wanted to get an impression, and the +impression I had was of some dark, sinister force in the background of +her life. That girl is not working independently. She has behind +her——” +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle?” suggested Parr, and there was the suggestion of +a sneer in his tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely,” said the other seriously. “Anyway, I’m going to see +her.” +</p> + +<p> +He called at Thalia’s flat that afternoon, and her servant showed him +into the pretty little drawing-room. A minute after Thalia came in, +and there was a smile in her fine eyes as she recognised her visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. Yale, have you come to give me a few words of warning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” laughed Yale. “I’ve come to offer you a job.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyebrows rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want an assistant,” she asked ironically, “acting on the +principle that to catch a thief you must employ a thief? Or have you +views about my reformation? Several people want to reform me,” she +said. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down on the piano stool, her hands behind her, and he knew +that she was mocking him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you steal, Miss Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it is my nature to,” she said without hesitation. “Why should +kleptomania be confined to the ruling classes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you get any satisfaction out of it?” he demanded. “I’m not asking +out of idle curiosity, but as a student of human man and woman.” +</p> + +<p> +She waved her hand round the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“I have the satisfaction of a very comfortable home,” she said. “I +have a good servant, and I am not likely to starve. All these things +are particularly satisfying to me. Now tell me about the job, Mr. +Yale. Do you want me to be a policewoman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly,” he smiled, “but I want a secretary, somebody upon whom +I can rely. My work is increasing at a tremendous rate; my +correspondence is much more than I can cope with. I will add, that +there is little opportunity in my office for the exercise of your pet +vice,” he added good-humouredly, “and anyway, I’ll take that risk.” +</p> + +<p> +She considered a moment, looking at him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re willing to take the risk, so am I,” she said at last. +“Where is your office?” +</p> + +<p> +He gave her the address. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be with you at ten o’clock in the morning. Lock up your +cheque-book and clear away your loose change,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“A remarkable girl,” he thought as he was going back to the city. +</p> + +<p> +He spoke no more than the truth when he had told Parr that she puzzled +him, and yet he had met with every type of criminal, and probably knew +more of criminal psychology than did Parr with all his experience. +</p> + +<p> +His mind strayed to Parr, that unhappy individual whom he knew was in +disgrace. How much longer would police head-quarters tolerate him +after this third failure to deal with the Crimson Circle, he wondered. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr was thinking on the same lines that night. A brief official +memo, had awaited him on his arrival at head-quarters, and he read it +with a grimace of pain. And there was worse to follow, he guessed, and +he had good reason for that fear. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning he was summoned to the house of Mr. Froyant, and +found Derrick Yale already there. +</p> + +<p> +For all their good relationship, the chase of the Crimson Circle had +developed into a duel between these strangely different personalities. +It was an open secret in newspaper land that Parr’s impending ruin was +due less to the unchecked villainies of the Crimson Circle, than to +the superhuman brilliancy of this unofficial rival. To do him justice, +Yale did his best to discredit this view, but it was held. +</p> + +<p> +Froyant, for all his meanness and his knowledge of Yale’s heavy fees, +had commissioned him immediately after he had received the warning. +His faith in the police had evaporated, and he made no attempt to +disguise his scepticism. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Froyant has decided to pay,” were the words which greeted the +inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, of course I shall pay!” exploded Mr. Froyant. +</p> + +<p> +He had aged ten years in the past few days, thought Parr; his face was +whiter, and thinner, and he seemed to have shrunk within himself. +</p> + +<p> +“If police head-quarters allow this dastardly association to threaten +respectable citizens, and cannot even protect their lives, what else +is there to be done, but to pay? My friend Pindle has had a similar +threat, and he has paid. I cannot stand the strain of this any +longer.” +</p> + +<p> +He paced up and down the library floor like a man demented. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Froyant will pay,” said Derrick Yale slowly. “But this time I +think the Crimson Circle have been just a little too venturesome.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you the letter, sir?” demanded Yale, and Froyant pulled open a +drawer savagely and slammed down the familiar card upon his +blotting-pad. +</p> + +<p> +“When did this arrive?” asked Parr as he took it up, noting the +Crimson Circle. +</p> + +<p> +“By this morning’s post.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr read the words inscribed in the centre: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>We shall call for the money at the office of Mr. Derrick Yale at +3.30 on Friday afternoon. The notes must not run in series. If it is +not there for us, you will die the same night.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Three times the inspector read the short message, and then he sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that simplifies matters,” he said. “Of course, they will not +call——” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they will,” said Yale quietly; “but I shall be prepared for +them, and I should like you to be on hand, Mr. Parr.” +</p> + +<p> +“If there is one thing more certain than another,” said the inspector +phlegmatically, “it is that I shall be on hand. But I don’t think they +will come.” +</p> + +<p> +“There I can’t agree with you,” said Yale. “Whoever the central figure +of the Crimson Circle is, he or she does not lack courage. And, by the +way,” he lowered his voice, “you will meet an old acquaintance at my +office.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr shot a quick, suspicious glance at the detective, and saw that he +was mildly amused. +</p> + +<p> +“Drummond?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You are engaging her?” +</p> + +<p> +“She rather interests me, and I fancy that she is going to be a real +help in the solution of this mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +Froyant came in at that moment, and the conversation was tactfully +changed. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch20"> +Chapter XX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Key of River House</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was arranged that Froyant should draw the necessary money from +his bank on the Thursday morning to pay the demand, and that Yale +should call for it and meet Parr at the former’s office in ample time +to make the necessary preparations for the visitor’s reception. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr’s way to head-quarters took him past the big house where Jack +Beardmore was living in solitude. +</p> + +<p> +The events of the past few weeks had wrought an extraordinary change +in the youth. From a boy he had suddenly become a man, with all a +man’s balance and understanding. He had inherited an enormous fortune, +but with its coming the incentive of life had, for the most part, +fallen away. He could never escape the memory of Thalia Drummond; her +face was before him, sleeping or waking, and though he called himself +a fool, and could, as he did, argue the matter to a logical +conclusion, the sum of all his reasoning faded before the image he +carried in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Between Inspector Parr and he there had grown a curious friendship. +There was a time when he was near to hating the stout little man, but +his good sense had told him that however large a part sentiment had +played in his own life, and in the direction of his own actions, it +could have no place in a police officer’s moral equipment. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector stopped before the door of the house, and was for +passing on, but, obeying an impulse, he walked slowly up the steps and +rang the bell. The footman who admitted him was one of the dozen +servants who accentuated the emptiness of the mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was in the dining-room, pretending to be interested in a late +breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Mr. Parr,” he said, rising. “I suppose you breakfasted hours +ago. Is there anything new?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said Parr, “except that Mr. Froyant has decided to pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“He would,” said Jack contemptuously, and then, for the first time in +a long while, he laughed. “I shouldn’t like to be the Red or Crimson +Circle, or whatever it calls itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked Mr. Parr, with a little light of amusement in his +eyes, but he could guess the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor father used to say that Froyant fretted over every cent that +was taken from him and never rested until he got it back. When +Harvey’s panic is over he will go after the Crimson Circle, and will +never leave it until every bank-note he has handed to them is repaid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely,” agreed the inspector, “but they aren’t holding the +money yet.” +</p> + +<p> +He told Jack the contents of the letter which Froyant had received +that morning, and his young host was visibly astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re taking a big risk, aren’t they? It would be a clever man who +got the better of Derrick Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I think,” said the inspector, crossing his legs comfortably. “I +must take my hat off to Yale. There are things about him that I admire +tremendously.” +</p> + +<p> +“His psychometrical powers, for example,” smiled Jack, but the +inspector shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know enough about those to admire them. They seem uncanny to +me, yet in a certain way I can understand them. No, I am thinking of +other of his qualities.” +</p> + +<p> +He was suddenly silent, and Jack sensed his depression. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re having a pretty bad time at head-quarters, aren’t you?” he +asked. “I don’t suppose they are particularly pleased with the +immunity of the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not exactly in a bed of roses just now,” he admitted. “But that +doesn’t worry me a bit.” He looked steadily at Jack. “By the way, your +young friend is in a new job.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack started. +</p> + +<p> +“My young friend?” he stammered. “You mean Miss——” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Drummond, I mean. Derrick Yale has engaged her,” he chuckled +softly at Jack’s astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Engaged Miss Thalia Drummond? You’re joking, surely?” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought he was joking when he suggested it. He’s a queer bird, is +Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“He ought to be at head-quarters, a lot of people think,” said Jack, +and realised that he had made a <i>faux pas</i> before the words were out. +</p> + +<p> +But if Mr. Parr was hurt he did not show it. +</p> + +<p> +“They don’t take them in from outside,” he said with a smile, and the +inspector very rarely smiled. “Otherwise, Mr. Beardmore, we should +have taken you! No, our friend is clever. I suppose you don’t expect a +head-quarters’ man to admit that what we call a ‘fancy’ detective can +be anything but an interfering fool? But Yale is clever.” +</p> + +<p> +They had strolled together to the window, and were looking out into +the sedate street in which Jack Beardmore’s residence was situated. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that Miss Drummond?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Parr had already seen her. She was walking slowly along the other side +of the road, looking at the numbers of the houses. Presently she +crossed. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s coming here,” gasped Jack. “I wonder what——” He did not wait +to finish what he had to say, but rushed out of the room and opened +the hall door to her whilst her finger was lingering on the bell push. +</p> + +<p> +“It is good to see you, Thalia,” he said, gripping her warmly by the +hand. “Won’t you come in? An old acquaintance of yours is in the +dining-room.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Mr. Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a wonderful guesser,” laughed Jack as he closed the door +behind her. “Did you want to see me alone?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I’ve only a message for you from Mr. Yale. He wanted you to let +him have the key of your riverside house.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time they were in the dining-room, and the girl, meeting the +expressionless gaze of Mr. Parr, nodded curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“You evidently do not love my friend, Mr. Parr,” thought Jack. +</p> + +<p> +He explained the object of the girl’s visit. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor father had a derelict property by the riverside,” he said. +“It has not been tenanted for years, and the surveyors tell me it will +cost almost as much as the property is worth to put it into repair. +For some reason Yale thinks that Brabazon will use this as a +hiding-place. Brabazon had it in his hands for some time, trying to +sell it. He looked after some of my father’s property. But is he at +all likely to be there?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr pursed his large lips and blinked meditatively. +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing I know about him is that so far he has not left the +country,” he said at last. “I should not think he’d go to a house +which he must know would be searched.” He stared absently at Thalia. +“Yet he might,” he mused. “I suppose he has a key to the place. What +is it, a house?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is half house and half warehouse,” said Jack. “I have never seen +it, but I believe it is one of those dwellings which the old merchants +favoured two hundred years ago, in the days when they lived in the +places where they carried on business.” +</p> + +<p> +He unlocked his desk and pulled out a drawer full of keys, each +bearing a label. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the one, I think, Miss Drummond,” he said, handing the key to +her. “How do you like your new job?” +</p> + +<p> +It required some courage to ask the question, for he was almost +awestricken in her presence. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is amusing,” she said, “without being in any way tempting! I +cannot tell you very much about it, because I only started this +morning.” She turned to the detective. “No, I shan’t trouble you very +much, Mr. Parr,” she said. “The only thing of value in the office is a +silver paper-weight—I don’t even have to post the letters,” she went +on mockingly. “The office is built on the American plan, and there is +a little shute in Mr. Yale’s private office that drops the letters +straight away into the box in the hall below. It is very +disappointing!” +</p> + +<p> +Solemn though she was, her eyes were dancing with merriment. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a queer woman, Thalia Drummond,” said Parr, “and yet I’m sure +there is some good in you.” +</p> + +<p> +The remark seemed to cause her unbounded amusement. She laughed until +the tears were in her eyes, and Jack grinned sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +Parr, on the other hand, showed no sign of amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful,” he said ominously, and the smile faded from her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be sure I shall be very careful, Mr. Parr,” she said, “and if +I am in any kind of trouble, you can be equally sure that I shall send +immediately for you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will,” said Parr, “though I have my doubts.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch21"> +Chapter XXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">River House</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Thalia</span> went straight back to the office and found Derrick Yale +sitting in his room reading through a heap of unanswered +correspondence. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the key? Thank you. Put it down there,” he said. “I am afraid +you will have to answer most of these yourself. The majority of them +are from foolish young people who wish to be trained as private +detectives. You will find a form reply, and you can sign the answers +yourself. And will you tell this lady,” he handed a letter across to +her, “that I am so busy now that I cannot undertake any further +commissions?” +</p> + +<p> +He took up the key from the table and held it for a second on his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You saw Mr. Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re almost terrifying, Mr. Yale. I did see Mr. Parr, but how did +you know?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head smilingly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is really very simple, and I should take no credit for my gift,” +he said, “any more than you take credit for your good looks and your +predisposition to—shall I say ‘take things as you find them’?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer at once, then: +</p> + +<p> +“I am a reformed character.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you will reform in time. You interest me,” said Yale, and +then, after a pause, “immensely!” And with a jerk of his head he +dismissed her. +</p> + +<p> +She was in the midst of her work and her typewriter was clacking +furiously when he appeared at the door of his room. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you try to get Mr. Parr on the telephone?” he said. “You will +find his number on the register.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr was not in his office when she called, but half an hour later +she reached him, and switched through the wire to the next room. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +She heard his voice through the door, which was left ajar. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to Beardmore’s river property to make a search. I have an +idea that Brabazon may be hiding there! … After lunch; all right. Will +you be here at half-past two?” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond listened and made a shorthand note on her +blotting-pad. +</p> + +<p> +At half-past two Parr called. She did not see him, for there was a +direct entrance to Yale’s room from the corridor without, but she +heard the rumble of his voice, and presently they went out. +</p> + +<p> +She waited until their footsteps had died away, then she took a +telegraph form, and addressing it to Johnson, 23, Mildred Street, +City, she wrote: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Derrick Yale has gone to search Beardmore’s riverside house.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond was nothing if not dutiful. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * +</p> + +<p> +The house stood upon a little wharf, and was a picture of desolation +and neglect. The stone foundation of the wharf was in decay, the +parapet broken, the yard a wilderness of weed; rank grasses and +nettles formed almost an impenetrable barrier to their progress after +they had opened the gate which led from the mean east-end street in +which the wharfage was cited. +</p> + +<p> +The house itself might at one time have been picturesque, but now, +with its broken lower windows, its weather-stained woodwork and +discoloured walls, it was a pitiable piece of architectural wreckage. +</p> + +<p> +At one end was a big, gaunt, stone store, built flush with the wharf’s +edge, and apparently communicating with the house. An air-raid during +the war had demolished one corner of the wall, and robbed it of a few +slates which remained, leaving the skeleton of rotting roof ribs +nakedly bare to inspection. +</p> + +<p> +“A cheerful place,” said Yale, as he opened the door. “It is not the +sort of setting in which one could imagine the elegant Brabazon, is +it?” +</p> + +<p> +The passage-way was dusty. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the house +was silent and lifeless. They made a rapid tour through the rooms, +without, however, discovering any sign of the fugitive. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a garret here,” said Yale, pointing to a flight of steps +that led to a trap-door in the ceiling of the upper floor. +</p> + +<p> +He ran up the steps, pushed open the flap and disappeared. Parr heard +him walking along and presently he came down. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing there,” he said as he slammed the trap-door in its place. +</p> + +<p> +“I never expected that you would find anything,” said Parr as he led +the way out of the house. +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the weed-grown path to the outer gate, and from a garret +window a white-faced man watched them through the dusty glass; a man +with a week’s growth of beard, whom even his most intimate friends +would never have recognised as Mr. Brabazon, the well-known banker. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch22"> +Chapter XXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Messenger of The Circle</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">You’re</span> a fool, sir, and an idiot. I thought you were a clever +detective, but you’re a fool!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant was in his most savage mood, and the neat stack of +bank-notes which stood upon his desk supplied the reason. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of so much good money going away from him was a cause of +unspeakable anguish to the miserly Harvey, and if his eyes strayed +away from that accumulation of wealth, they came back again almost +instantly. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale was a difficult man to offend. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I am,” he said, “but I must run my own business in my own +way, Mr. Froyant, and if I think that the girl can lead me to the +Crimson Circle—as I do think—then I shall employ her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mark my words,” Froyant shook his fingers in the detective’s face, +“that girl is with the gang. You will discover, my friend, that <i>she</i> +is the messenger who will call for the money!” +</p> + +<p> +“In which case she will be immediately arrested,” said the other. +“Believe me, Mr. Froyant, I have no intention of losing sight of these +notes, but if they are taken by the Crimson Circle, the responsibility +must be mine not yours. My job is to save your life, and to divert the +vengeance of the Circle from you to myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, quite right,” said Mr. Froyant hastily, “that is the +proper way to look at it, Yale. I see that you are not as +unintelligent as I thought. Have it your own way,” he said. He +fingered the notes lovingly, and putting them into a long envelope, +handed them, with every evidence of reluctance, to the detective, who +slipped the package into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there is no news of Brabazon? The rascal has robbed me of +over two thousand pounds, which I foolishly invested in one of Marl’s +rotten concerns.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know anything about Marl?” asked the detective, opening the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“I only know that he was a blackguard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you know anything that isn’t as well known?” asked Yale +patiently. “His beginnings, where he came from?” +</p> + +<p> +“He came from France, I believe,” said Froyant. “I know very little +about him. In fact, it was James Beardmore who introduced me. There +was some story about his having been concerned in land swindles in +France, and of having been imprisoned there, but I never take much +notice of gossip. He was useful to me, and I made quite a considerable +sum out of most of my investments with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The other smiled. In those circumstances, he thought, the miser might +very well forgive the erring Marl for his later losses. +</p> + +<p> +When he got back to his office he found Parr waiting, with Jack +Beardmore. +</p> + +<p> +He had not expected a visit from the younger man, and guessed that the +real attraction was Thalia Drummond, for whose absence he tactfully +apologised. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve sent Miss Drummond home, Parr,” he said. “I don’t want a girl +mixed up in the business of this afternoon. There may be a little +rough-and-tumble work.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked keenly at Jack Beardmore. +</p> + +<p> +“For which I hope you are prepared.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be disappointed if there isn’t,” said Jack cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your plan?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going into my room a few minutes before the messenger is due to +arrive. I shall have both doors locked, that into the passage and that +into this outer office. In the case of this door, I will leave the key +on your side and ask you to lock me in. My object, of course, is to +prevent a surprise. As soon as you hear a knock, and hear me rise and +go to the door and unlock it, you will know that the visitor has +arrived, and when the door closes again, I want you to station +yourself outside in the corridor.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“That seems simple,” he said. He walked to the window, looked out, and +waved a handkerchief, and Yale smiled approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you have taken the necessary precautions. How many men have +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think there are eighty,” said Mr. Parr calmly, “and they will +practically surround the place.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“We have to remember,” he said, “that the Crimson Circle may send a +very ordinary district messenger, in which case, of course, he must be +followed. I am determined that the money shall pass into the hands of +the chief of the Crimson Circle himself—that is an essential.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite agree,” said Parr, “but I have an idea that the gentleman, or +whoever he is, will not come himself. May I look at your office?” +</p> + +<p> +He walked in and inspected the room. It was lighted by one window. In +a corner was a cupboard, the door of which he opened. It was empty +save for a hanging coat. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind,” Inspector Parr was almost humble, “I want you to +stay in the outer office. Thank you, I’ll close the door on you. I get +rattled if I am overlooked.” +</p> + +<p> +Laughingly Yale walked from the office, and Mr. Parr closed the door +on him. He opened the second door, and looked out into the corridor. +Presently they heard him close that also. +</p> + +<p> +“You can come in,” he said, “I’ve seen all I want.” +</p> + +<p> +The room was simply but comfortably furnished. There was a wide +fireplace, in which, however, no fire burnt, although the day was +chilly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t expect him to get up the chimney,” said Yale, humorously, as +he noticed the detective’s inspection, “I never have a fire in this +office; I’m one of those hot-blooded mortals who are never really +cold.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack, a fascinated observer of the search, picked up the deadly little +pistol that lay on the detective’s table, and examined it cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful, that trigger is a little sensitive,” said Yale. +</p> + +<p> +He took from his pockets the envelope containing the notes, and laid +them by the side of the weapon. Then he looked at his watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I think that to be on the safe side we should go to the other +office, and lock the door,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He accompanied his words by locking the door into the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“It is rather thrilling,” whispered Jack. He felt that a whisper was +the fitting tone for that exciting moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope it won’t be too thrilling,” said Yale. +</p> + +<p> +They went to the outer office, and turned the key on him, and sat +down—Jack unconsciously on Thalia Drummond’s chair, a fact which he +realised with a start. +</p> + +<p> +Was she of the Crimson Circle, he wondered? Parr had hinted as much. +Jack set his teeth; he could not, and would not believe even the +evidence of his own eyes, and his own common sense. So far from her +influence waning, it was gathering strength. She was a being apart, +and if she was guilty—— +</p> + +<p> +He looked up, and saw Parr’s eyes fixed upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t pretend to be psychometrical,” said the detective slowly, +“but I’ve an idea you’re thinking about Thalia Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was,” admitted the young man. “Mr. Parr, do you think she is really +as bad as she appears to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean, do I think that she stole Froyant’s Buddha, because if +that’s what you mean, it is not a question of thinking, I am certain.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was silent. He could never hope to convince this stolid man of +the girl’s innocence and anyway it was madness, he recognised, to +think of her as innocent when she had confessed her fault. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better keep quiet in there.” It was Yale’s voice, and Parr +grunted a reply. +</p> + +<p> +Thereafter they sat in dead silence. They heard him moving about the +room, then he too was quiet, for the hour was approaching. Inspector +Parr pulled his watch from his pocket, and laid it on the table; the +hands pointed to half-past three. It was now that the messenger was +due and he sat, his head strained forward, listening, but there was no +sound of attack. +</p> + +<p> +Presently there was a noise in Yale’s room, a queer bumping noise as +though Yale had sat down heavily. +</p> + +<p> +Parr jumped to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all right,” said Yale’s voice, “I stumbled over something. Be +quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat for another five minutes, and then Parr called: +</p> + +<p> +“Are you all right, Yale?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yale!” he called more loudly. “Do you hear me?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply and springing to the door he snapped the lock, and +rushed into the room, Jack at his heels. +</p> + +<p> +What they saw might have paralysed even a more experienced officer +than Inspector Parr. +</p> + +<p> +Stretched upon the ground, his wrists fastened with handcuffs, his +ankles strapped, and a towel over his face lay the prostrate figure of +Derrick Yale. The window was open, and there was a strong scent of +ether and chloroform. The package of money which had lain upon the +table had disappeared. Three seconds later, an aged postman left the +hall of the building, carrying his letter-bag on his shoulder, and the +police who were watching the house, let him pass without question. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch23"> +Chapter XXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Woman in the Cupboard</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Parr</span> bent down, and snatched the saturated towel from the +detective’s face, and he opened his eyes, and stared around. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he asked thickly, but the inspector was busy unscrewing +the handcuffs. Presently he threw them clanking to the floor, and +lifted the man to his feet, as Jack, with trembling fingers, unbuckled +the straps about Yale’s legs. +</p> + +<p> +They led him to his chair, and he fell heavily into its depths, +passing his hand across his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Parr. “Which way did they go?” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, I can’t remember,” he said. “Is the door locked?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack ran to the door. The key was turned from the inside. He could not +have gone that way, but the window was open. That was the first thing +Parr had seen when he entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +He ran to the window, and looked out. There was a sheer fall of eighty +feet, and no sign of a ladder or of any means by which Yale’s +assailant could have escaped. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what happened,” said Yale, when he had partially +recovered. “I was sitting in this chair when suddenly a cloth was +pulled across my face, and two powerful hands gripped me with a +strength which I shouldn’t have thought possible in any human being. +Before I could struggle or cry out I must have lost consciousness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear my call?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +The other man shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Mr. Yale, we heard a noise and Mr. Parr asked if you were all +right. You replied that you had only stumbled.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not me,” said Yale. “I remember nothing from the moment the +cloth was put on my face until the moment you found me here.” +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr was at the window. He pulled down the sash, and he +pushed it up again, and then he looked on the window-sill, and when he +turned there was a large smile on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the cleverest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Something of Jack’s old antipathy to the stout detective returned. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it is particularly clever. They’ve half-killed Yale, +and they’ve got away,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I said it was clever, and it was clever,” said Mr. Parr stolidly, +“and now I think I’ll go down, and interview the officers I left on +duty in the hall.” +</p> + +<p> +But the watching officers had nothing to say. Nobody had entered or +left the building except the postman. +</p> + +<p> +“Except the postman, eh?” said Parr thoughtfully. “Why, of course, the +postman! All right, sergeant, you can dismiss your men.” +</p> + +<p> +He went up in the elevator and rejoined Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“The money’s gone all right,” he said. “I don’t know what we can do +except report the matter to head-quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale was now nearly his normal self, and sat at his desk with his head +resting on his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m the culprit this time,” he said, “and they can’t blame you, +Parr. I’m still trying to puzzle out how they got into that window, +and how they reached me without making a sound.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was your back to the window?” +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I never dreamt of the window. I sat so that I could see both doors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your back was also to the fireplace?” +</p> + +<p> +“They couldn’t have come that way,” said the other, shaking his head. +“No, this is the supreme mystery of my career; more astounding than +the identity of the Crimson Circle,” he got up slowly, “I must report +this to old man Froyant, and you had better come along and lend me +your moral support,” he said. “He will be furious.” +</p> + +<p> +They left the office together, Yale locking both doors and slipping +the key into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +To say that Mr. Froyant was furious is to employ a very mild +expression to describe his hectic frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me, you practically promised me,” he stormed, “that the +money would come back to me, and now you have come with a +cock-and-bull story of being drugged. It is monstrous! Where were you, +Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was on the premises,” said Mr. Parr, “and the story Mr. Yale has +told is correct.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Froyant’s rage died down, so suddenly that the calmness of +his voice was almost startling after its previous rancour. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said, “nothing can be done. The Crimson Circle have +had their money, and that is the end of it. I’m much obliged to you, +Yale. Please send your bill to me.” +</p> + +<p> +And with these brusque instructions, he sent them to rejoin Jack, who +was waiting in the street outside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that beats the band,” said Parr. “I thought at one time he was +going to have a fit, and then did you notice how his manner changed?” +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded slowly. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment of Froyant’s change of manner a great idea was formed in +his mind, a tremendous and startling doubt that was almost paralysing. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said Parr good-humouredly, “as I have given you moral +support, perhaps you will extend the same service to me. At police +head-quarters I am not so much <i>persona grata</i> as you. Come along and +see the Commissioner and tell him what happened.” +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale’s office was silent and deserted. Ten minutes had passed +since the drone of the elevator announced the departure of the three +men. The silence was broken by a click, and slowly the doors in the +big cupboard in the corner of Derrick Yale’s office were pushed open +and Thalia Drummond came out. She closed the doors behind her and +stood for a while contemplating the room, deep in thought. From her +pocket she took a key, opened the door and, passing into the corridor, +locked the door behind her. +</p> + +<p> +She did not ring for the elevator. At the farther end of the passage +was a flight of narrow stairs which communicated with the caretaker’s +room, on the top floor, and which were used only by him. Down these +she went. At the bottom was a door leading into the courtyard of a +building. This, too, she unlocked and soon after had joined the throng +of homeward bound clerks that thronged the pavement at this hour. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch24"> +Chapter XXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">£10,000 Reward</span> +</h2> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“The Associated Merchants Bank are authorised to offer a reward of ten +thousand pounds for information which will lead to the arrest and +conviction of the leader of what is known as the Crimson Circle Gang. +In conjunction with this reward the Secretary of State promises a free +pardon to any member of the gang, other than one actually guilty of +wilful murder, providing that the said member will furnish the +information and evidence requisite to the conviction of the man or +woman known as the Crimson Circle.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +On every hoarding, in every post office window, on every police +station board, the announcement flared in blood-red print. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale, on his way to his office, saw the announcement and read +it and passed on, wondering what effect this would have upon the minor +members of the gang he had been engaged to hunt. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond read it from the top of a bus, when that vehicle had +pulled up close to a hoarding, to take on a passenger, and she smiled +to herself. But the most remarkable effect of the poster was upon +Harvey Froyant. It brought a colour to his face and a light to his eye +which made him almost youthful. He, too, was on his way to the office +when he read the announcement, but hurried back to his house and took +from a drawer in his study a long list. They were the numbers of the +bank-notes which the Crimson Circle had taken, and he had compiled +them laboriously, almost lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +With his own hands he now made another copy, a work that occupied him +until late in the morning. When he had finished he wrote a letter, and +enclosing the new list of notes, he addressed it, posting the letter +himself, to a firm of lawyers which he knew specialised in the tracing +of lost and stolen property. +</p> + +<p> +Heggitts’ had rendered him good service before, and the next morning +brought a representative of the firm, Mr. James Heggitt, the senior +partner, a wizened little man with a chronic sniff. +</p> + +<p> +The name of Heggitt was not one which was universally respected, nor +did lawyers, when they met, speak of it with affection or regard. And +yet it was one of the most prosperous firms of lawyers in the city. +The majority of its clients were on or over the border-line which +separates the lawful from the unlawful, but to the law-abiding also it +was very useful, and was frequently consulted by more eminent firms +whose clients wished to recover valuable goods which had been taken by +the light-fingered gentry. In some mysterious way Heggitts’ could +always place their finger upon a “gentleman” who had “heard” of the +property which was lost, and, in the majority of cases, the missing +article was restored. +</p> + +<p> +“I got your note, Mr. Froyant,” said the little lawyer, “and I can +tell you now that none of these notes are likely to go through the +usual channels.” He paused and licked his lips, looking past Mr. +Froyant. “The biggest ‘fence’ of all has gone, so I’m not doing him +any injustice when I mention the fact.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Brabazon,” was the startling reply, and the other stared at him in +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean Brabazon of Brabazon’s Bank?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do,” said Heggitt, nodding. “I should say he did a bigger +business in stolen money than any other man in London. You see, it +could pass through his bank without anybody being the wiser, and as he +did a lot of business abroad and was constantly changing and +re-changing money for export, he got away with it. We knew who was +fencing it. At least, when I say we knew,” he corrected himself, “we +had a shrewd suspicion. As officers of the court, we should, of +course, have notified the authorities had we been certain. I thought +it better to call to explain to you that it is going to be a very +difficult job to trace this money. Most stolen notes are passed on +race-courses, but quite a considerable number find their way abroad, +where it is a much simpler matter to change them, and where they are +ever so much more difficult to trace. You say it was the Crimson +Circle who did it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know them?” asked Froyant quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I have never had any dealings with them at all,” he said, “but, of +course, I knew about them, and enough to know that they are clever +people. It is likely that this man Brabazon has been doing their work, +consciously or unconsciously. In that case they might find a +difficulty in disposing of the stuff, for a bank-note ‘fence’ is one +of the hardest to find. What am I to do when I track one of these +notes and have discovered the person who passed it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to notify me at once,” said Froyant, “and nobody else. You +understand that this is a matter on which my life may hang, and if by +any chance the Crimson Circle get to know that I am trying to recover +the money it will be a very serious thing for me.” +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer agreed. +</p> + +<p> +The Crimson Circle apparently interested him, for he lingered, and +skilfully plied his employer with questions without Mr. Froyant +realising that he was being pumped. +</p> + +<p> +“They are something new in criminals,” he said. “In Italy, where the +Black Hand thrives, the demand for money, followed by a threat of +death, is quite a common occurrence, but I should not have thought it +possible in this country. The most amazing thing of all is that the +Crimson Circle holds together. I should imagine,” he said +thoughtfully, “that there is only one man in it, and that he employs a +very considerable number of people unknown to one another and each +having his particular job to perform. Otherwise he would have been +betrayed a long time ago. It is only the fact that the people serving +him do not know him that makes it possible for him to carry on.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, did you know Felix Marl? A client of ours is under charge +of burgling his house. Mr. Barnet. You may not have heard of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant had not heard of “Flush” Barnet, but he knew Marl, and +Marl interested him almost as much as the Crimson Circle interested +the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew Marl. Why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange character,” he said. “A remarkable character in many ways. +He was a member of the gang engaged in frauds on French banks. I +suppose you didn’t know that? His lawyer came to see me to-day. +Apparently a Mrs. Marl has turned up to claim his property, and she +has told the whole story. He and a man named Lightman made a fortune +in France until they were caught. Marl would have been sent to the +guillotine, only he turned State’s evidence. Lightman, I believe, went +to the knife.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a charming man Mr. Marl must have been!” said Mr. Froyant +ironically. +</p> + +<p> +The little lawyer smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“What charming people we all are when our lives are laid bare!” he +said, and Mr. Froyant resented the implied censure, for it was his +boast that his life was a book. He might have added in truth a +bank-book. +</p> + +<p> +So Brabazon was a dealer in stolen notes and Marl a convicted +murderer! Mr. Froyant wondered how Marl managed to escape from his +term of imprisonment, which must have been a severe one, and he +inwardly rejoiced that his business relationships with the deceased +had not ended even more disastrously than they had. +</p> + +<p> +He dressed and went to his club to dine, and his car was running into +Pall Mall when a hoarding poster showed under the light of a lamp and +reminded him of the unpleasant fact that he was a fifty-thousand +pounds poorer man that night than he had been in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten thousand reward!” he muttered. “Bah! Who is going to turn King’s +evidence? I don’t suppose even Brabazon would dare.” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not know Brabazon. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch25"> +Chapter XXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Tenant of River House</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Brabazon</span> sat in a chill upper room of River House, eating slowly +a large portion of bread and cheese. He wore the dress suit he was +wearing when the warning came to him, and he was a ludicrous figure in +the smartly-fitting, but now soiled and dusty garb. His white shirt +was grey with the grime of the house, he was collarless, and his +general air of dissipation was heightened by the stubbly beard that +decorated his face. +</p> + +<p> +He finished his repast, opened the window carefully and threw out the +remnants of bread, and passing through the trap-door, he descended the +ladder and made his way to the big kitchen at the back of the house. +He had neither soap nor towel, but he made some attempt to wash +himself without their aid, utilising one of the two handkerchiefs he +had brought with him to the house in his flight. With the exception of +the clothes he stood up in, an overcoat and the soft felt hat he had +seized when he made his escape, he was quite unequipped for this +undesirable adventure. +</p> + +<p> +The provisions which the mystery man had brought the night after he +had reached his hiding place were almost exhausted (he had spent +twenty-four hours without any food whatever, but in his agitation had +not realised the fact until the stranger arrived carrying a basket of +foodstuffs). As to his nerves, they were almost gone. A week spent in +that hovel without communion with man, with the knowledge that the +police were searching for him, and that a long term of imprisonment +would automatically follow his capture, had played havoc with his +placid features, and to the solitude had been added the terror of a +search. +</p> + +<p> +He had shrunk in a corner behind a door which opened to the inner room +leading to the garret whilst the detective had explored the room. The +memory of Derrick Yale’s visit was a nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +He settled himself down in the old chair that he had found in the +house, to spend yet another night. The man whose warning had sent him +flying to cover must come soon, and must bring more food. Brabazon was +dozing when he heard the sound of a key put into the lock below and +jumped up. He tiptoed carefully to the trap-door and lifted it and +then he heard the booming voice of the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“Come down,” it said, and he obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +The previous interview had been in the passage where the darkness +seemed thicker than anywhere else in the house. He had accustomed +himself to the darkness and walked down the rickety stairs without +mishap. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are,” said the voice. “I have brought you some food +and clothing. You will find everything you need. You had better shave +yourself and make yourself presentable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I going?” asked Brabazon. +</p> + +<p> +“I have taken a berth for you on a steamer leaving Victoria Dock +to-morrow for New Zealand. You will find your passport papers and +ticket in the grip. Now listen. You are to leave your moustache, or +what there is of it unshaven, and shave your eyebrows. They are the +most conspicuous features of your face.” +</p> + +<p> +Brabazon wondered when this man had seen him. Mechanically his hand +stole up to his shaggy eyebrows and mentally he agreed with the +mysterious visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not brought you any money,” the voice went on. “You have sixty +thousand which you stole from Marl—you closed his account, forging +his name to a cheque, believing that I would settle with him—as I +did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” asked Brabazon. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Crimson Circle,” was the reply. “Why do you ask that +question? You have met me before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course,” Brabazon muttered. “I think this place is driving me +mad. When may I leave this house?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may leave to-morrow. Wait until nightfall. Your ship leaves on +the following morning, but you can get on board to-morrow night.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they will be watching the ship,” pleaded Brabazon. “Don’t you +think it is too dangerous?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no danger for you,” was the reply. “Give me your money.” +</p> + +<p> +“My money?” gasped the banker, turning pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your money.” There was an ominous note in the voice that +spoke in the darkness, and tremblingly Brabazon obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +Two large packets of money passed into the gloved hand of the visitor, +and then: +</p> + +<p> +“Here, take this.” +</p> + +<p> +“This” was a thinner wad of notes, and the sensitive fingers of the +banker told him that they were new. +</p> + +<p> +“You can change them when you get abroad,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t I leave to-night?” Brabazon’s teeth were chattering now. +“This place gives me the horrors.” +</p> + +<p> +The Crimson Circle was evidently thinking, for it was some time before +he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish,” he said, “but remember you are taking a risk. Now go +upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +The order was sharp and peremptory, and meekly Brabazon obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +He heard the door close, and peering through the dusty windows, he saw +the dark shadow stalk along the path and disappear into the darkness. +Presently he heard the gate click. The man was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Brabazon groped for the bag which the other had left and, finding it, +carried it to the kitchen. Here he could show a light without fear of +detection, and he lit one of the scraps of candle he had discovered in +his search of the house during the week. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger had not exaggerated when he said that the bag contained +all that Brabazon required. But the banker’s first thought was to +examine the money which the other had put into his hand. They were +notes of all series and all numbers. His own had been in a series, and +yet they were new. He looked at them curiously. He knew that new +bank-notes were not usually issued higgledy-piggledy, and then he +guessed the reason. The Crimson Circle had blackmailed somebody and +had asked that the notes should not be numbered consecutively. He put +the money down and began to change. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very smart Brabazon who stepped cautiously through the gates +carrying his bag an hour later, and yet so remarkable was the change +which the shaved eyebrows had made, that when, at eleven o’clock that +night, he passed one of the many detective officers who were looking +for him, he was unrecognised. +</p> + +<p> +He had engaged a room in a small hotel near Euston Station, and went +to bed. It was the first night of untroubled sleep he had enjoyed for +over a week. +</p> + +<p> +The next day he spent in his room, not caring to trust himself abroad +in daylight, but in the evening, after a solitary meal served in his +sitting-room, he went out to take the air. He was gaining in +confidence, and was now satisfied that he could pass the scrutiny of +the ship detective. He chose the less frequented streets and was +passing near the Museum when he saw a bill newly pasted on the +hoarding, and stopped to read it. +</p> + +<p> +As he read, an idea took shape. Ten thousand pounds and a free pardon! +It was by no means sure that he would escape in the morning; more +likely was it that he would be detected, and at best what would his +life be? The life of a hunted dog, for which even his money would not +compensate him. Ten thousand pounds and freedom! And nobody knew about +the money that he had tricked from Felix Marl’s estate. He would put +that in a safe deposit in the morning, go straight to police +head-quarters with information which he felt sure must lead to the +Crimson Circle’s undoing. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do it,” he said aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re very wise.” +</p> + +<p> +The voice was at his elbow and he swung round. +</p> + +<p> +A little, stocky man had walked noiselessly behind him in his +rubber-soled shoes, and Brabazon recognised him instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr,” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” said the inspector. “Now, Mr. Brabazon, will you come +a little walk with me, or are you going to make trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +As they went into the police-station, a woman came out, and the pallid +Brabazon failed to recognise his former clerk. He stood in the steel +pen whilst the story of his iniquities was told in the cold, official +language of the warrant. +</p> + +<p> +“You can save yourself a lot of trouble, Mr. Brabazon,” said Inspector +Parr, “by telling me the truth. I know where you are staying—at +Bright’s Hotel in the Euston Road. You arrived there late last night +and your passage is booked in the name of Thomson to New Zealand by +the <i>Itinga</i>, which is due to leave Victoria Dock to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” said the startled Brabazon. “How did you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +But here Inspector Parr did not inform him. +</p> + +<p> +Brabazon did not intend lying. He told everything he knew. All that +had happened from the moment he was called by telephone and told to +make a get-away, until he was arrested. +</p> + +<p> +“So you were in the house all the time?” said the inspector +thoughtfully. “How did you come to escape Mr. Yale’s search?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, was it Yale?” said Brabazon. “I thought it was you. There was an +inner room—just a little storehouse, I think it was in the old +times—I got behind the door and hid. He came almost to the door. I +nearly died with fright.” +</p> + +<p> +“So Yale was right again. You were there!” said the inspector speaking +half to himself. “Now, what are you going to do about it, Brabazon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to tell you all I know about the Crimson Circle, and I +think I can give you information which will lead to his arrest. But +you’ll have to be smart.” +</p> + +<p> +He was recovering something of his old pomposity, Parr observed. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you that he exchanged my notes for his, and his notes for +mine. I’m sure he did that because he was afraid of the numbers being +taken, but my notes were in a series—series E.19, and I can give you +the number of every one of them,” he went on easily. “He wouldn’t +change the stuff he got.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was Froyant’s money, I think,” said the inspector. “Yes, go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“He dare not change that, but he will change mine. Don’t you see what +a chance this gives to you?” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector was a little sceptical. Nevertheless, after Brabazon had +been locked in the cell, he called up Froyant on the ’phone and told +him as much of what had happened as was necessary for him to know. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got the money?” said Froyant eagerly. “Come up to the house at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bring it up to the house with pleasure,” replied Parr, “but I +feel I ought to warn you that this is not your money, although it is +the actual cash that was transferred by you to the Crimson Circle.” +</p> + +<p> +Later on, in Mr. Froyant’s presence, he explained the situation. That +spare man made no attempt to hide his disappointment, for he seemed to +think that in whatever circumstances the money was recovered, he was +entitled to claim. After a while Inspector Parr got him into a more +reasonable frame of mind. Froyant was talking quite calmly on the +matter, when he suddenly broke off with the question: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you the numbers of the notes which Brabazon handed to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are easy to remember,” said Parr, “they belong to a series,” and +he recited the numbers, Mr. Froyant making a rapid note on his +desk-pad. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch26"> +Chapter XXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Bottle of Chloroform</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Thalia Drummond</span> was writing a letter when her visitor arrived, and +of the many people whom Thalia expected to call, Millie Macroy was the +last. The girl looked ill and tired, but she was not so far from human +that she could not stand and admire the dainty drawing-room into which +Thalia showed her, her servant having gone home for the night. +</p> + +<p> +“Why this is a palace, kid,” she said, and regarded Thalia with +reluctant admiration. “You know how to do it all right, better than +poor ‘Flush.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“And how is the elegant ‘Flush’?” asked Thalia coolly. +</p> + +<p> +Millie Macroy’s face darkened. +</p> + +<p> +“See here,” she said roughly, “I don’t want any kind of talk about +‘Flush’ in that tone, do you understand? He is where <i>you</i> ought to +be. You were in it as well as him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly. Take off your hat and sit down. Why, it’s like old +times seeing you, Macroy.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl grumbled something under her breath, but accepted the +invitation. +</p> + +<p> +“It is about ‘Flush’ I want to see you,” she said. “There’s some talk +of framing a murder charge against him, but you know he didn’t commit +any murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know? Why should I know?” asked Thalia. “I didn’t even know that he +was in the house until I read the newspapers in the morning—how +wonderfully clever they are on the Press to get news so red-hot.” +</p> + +<p> +Milly Macroy had not come to discuss the enterprise of the Press. She +drove straight into her subject, which was, as Thalia had expected, +“Flush” Barnet and his immediate prospects. +</p> + +<p> +“Drummond, I’m not going to quarrel with you,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” said Thalia. “I can’t exactly see what there is to +quarrel about, anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may or may not be,” said Miss Macroy ironically. “The point is, +what are you going to do for ‘Flush’? You know all these swells, and +you’re working for that swine Yale,” she almost hissed. “It was Yale +who put Parr up to the Marisburg Place job; Parr hadn’t got brains +enough to think it out for himself. Were you working with Yale all the +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t make me laugh,” said Thalia scornfully. “It’s certainly true I +am working for Yale, if writing his letters and tidying his desk is +work. But what swells are you talking about? And what can I do for +‘Flush’ Barnet?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can go to Inspector Parr and tell him the old, old story,” said +Macroy. “I’ve got it all worked out; you can say that ‘Flush’ was +sweet on you, saw you go into the house and followed, and couldn’t get +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about my young reputation?” asked the girl coolly. “No, Milly +Macroy, you’ve got to think up something prettier and, anyway, I don’t +think they’re making a charge for murder against him, from what +Derrick Yale said this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and walked slowly across the room, her hands clasped behind +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, what interest have I in your young man? Why should I take +the trouble of speaking for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you why.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Macroy rose, her hands on her hips, and glared at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Because when the Brabazon case comes on, there’s nothing to prevent +me going into the box and saying a few plain words about what you did +in the way of quick money-getting when you were Brab’s secretary. Ah! +That’s made you jump, miss!” +</p> + +<p> +“When the Brabazon case comes on!” said the girl slowly. “Why? Have +they caught Brabazon?” +</p> + +<p> +“They pinched him to-night,” answered the girl triumphantly. “Parr did +it: I was up at the police station making inquiries about some money +that ‘Flush’ left over for me, when they brought him in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Brabazon a prisoner,” said Thalia slowly. “Poor old Brab!” +</p> + +<p> +Macroy was watching her through her half-closed lids. She had never +liked Thalia Drummond, and now she hated her. She feared her too, for +there was something sinister in her very coolness. Presently Thalia +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do what I can for ‘Flush’ Barnet,” she said. “Not because I’m +scared of your going into the box—that’s the part of the police court +where you’ll be least at home, Macroy—but because the poor little +wretch was innocent of the murder.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Macroy swallowed something at this description of her lover. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll talk to Yale in the morning. I can’t be sure it will do any +good, but I’ll get a heart-to-heart talk with him if he gives me a +chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Miss Macroy, a little more graciously, and proceeded +to admire the flat in conventional language. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia showed her from room to room. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this place?” +</p> + +<p> +“The kitchen,” said Thalia, but made no attempt to open the door. The +girl looked at her suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got a friend?” she asked, and before Thalia could stop her +she had opened the door and walked in. +</p> + +<p> +The kitchen was a small one and empty. The electric light was burning, +which suggested to Miss Macroy that the girl had left the kitchen to +answer her knock. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia could have smiled at the obvious disappointment on Milly +Macroy’s face, but her inclination to amusement departed as Macroy +walked to the sink and picked up a bottle. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” said she, and read the label. +</p> + +<p> +It was half-filled with a colourless liquid, and Miss Macroy did not +attempt to take out the stopper. The label told her all she wanted to +know. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Chloroform and Ether,’ ” she read, looking at the girl. “Why have you +been using chloroform?” +</p> + +<p> +Only for a second was Thalia taken aback, and then she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you know, Milly Macroy,” she drawled, “when I think of poor +‘Flush’ Barnet in Brixton Gaol, I just have to sniff something to put +him out of my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Macroy banged down the bottle on the table with a snort. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a bad lot, Thalia Drummond, and one of these days they’ll be +waking you at eight o’clock, and ask you if you have any message for +your friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I shall reply,” said Thalia sweetly, “bury me next to ‘Flush’ +Barnet, the eminent crook.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Milly Macroy did not think of a suitable retort until she was in +the Marylebone Road, and then it came to her with annoying force that, +for all her interview, Thalia Drummond had promised nothing. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch27"> +Chapter XXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Mr. Parr’s Mother</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack Beardmore</span> had heard of Brabazon’s arrest, and went straight to +police head-quarters to see Mr. Parr. +</p> + +<p> +He found that excellent gentleman had gone home. +</p> + +<p> +“If it is important, Mr. Beardmore,” said the police clerk on duty, +“you will find him at home in his house at Stamford Avenue.” +</p> + +<p> +Beyond his natural interest in the Crimson Circle and all that +pertained thereto, Jack had no particular wish to see the inspector, +and Derrick Yale had telephoned all that was known or could be told. +</p> + +<p> +“Parr thinks this arrest may have an important development,” he said. +“No, I haven’t seen Brabazon, but I accompany Parr to-morrow morning +when he visits him.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale, too, was apparently un-get-at-able; he had hinted that he had a +theatre party that night, and Jack bent his steps homeward. He had +sent his car away, for he felt he needed exercise to dissipate his +energies, and as he crossed the gloomy park, taking a short cut to his +house, he found himself wondering what sort of a home life a man like +Parr could have. He had never spoken about his family, and his mode of +living outside of the police head-quarters was almost as much of a +mystery as that which he was trying to unravel. +</p> + +<p> +Where was Stamford Avenue, he wondered. He had reached a deserted spot +of the park, when he thought he heard footsteps behind him, and turned +his head. He was not a nervous type, and ordinarily the sound of +somebody walking in his rear would not have interested him +sufficiently to make him turn. The path here skirted a dense thicket +of rhododendrons. There was nobody in sight. Jack went on, quickening +his pace. +</p> + +<p> +He heard no more footsteps, but looking round he thought he saw a man +walking on the grass by the side of the path. As Jack stopped he too +halted. He was doubtful as to what he should do. To challenge the man +might put him into an absurd position; there was no reason in the +world why any good citizen should not walk in the park at night, or, +for the matter of that, why they should not walk behind him anywhere +at a respectable distance. +</p> + +<p> +And then ahead of him he made out a slowly strolling figure, and heard +the unmistakable “beat walk” of a policeman. +</p> + +<p> +To his own amazement he felt relieved, and when he looked round, the +figure that had followed him had disappeared. He tried to reconstruct +his impression; whoever his tracker had been, he was smally made. At +first Jack had thought it was a boy; perhaps some poor park beggar who +was mustering up courage to approach him for the price of a night’s +bed. It seemed absurd that he was glad to be out of the park, and to +step into the well-lighted street, but it was the case. +</p> + +<p> +He made an inquiry of a policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“Stamford Avenue, sir? That bus you see over there will take you, or +you can get there in a taxi in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stood for a long time before he called the taxi-cab. Mr. Parr +would rightly resent this intrusion into his domestic privacy, and +really he had no excuse to offer. But making up his mind of a sudden, +he called a cab, and in a very short time was experiencing exactly the +same doubts and misgivings before the door of Inspector Parr’s +maisonette. +</p> + +<p> +It was Parr himself who opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +His face was naturally free from expression, and he neither showed +surprise nor annoyance at the arrival of his late visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “I have just arrived, and am having +supper. I suppose you’ve had your evening meal a long time ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let me interrupt you, Mr. Parr, only I was rather interested to +hear that you had caught Brabazon, and I thought I’d come along.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector was showing him into the dining-room, when suddenly he +stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Jack could only wonder what had startled him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind waiting here?” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time since Jack had known the police officer, Parr was +embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +“I must first tell an old aunt of mine who is staying here who you +are,” he said. “She’s not used to visitors. I’m a widower, you know, +and my aunt keeps house for me.” +</p> + +<p> +He entered the dining-room hurriedly, closing the door behind him, and +Jack felt something of his host’s embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +A minute, two minutes passed. He heard a hurried movement in the room, +and Parr opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, sir.” His red face was even a deeper red. “Sit you down, and +please forgive me for keeping you waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +The room in which he found himself was well and tastefully furnished. +Jack was annoyed with himself for expecting anything else. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr’s aunt was a faded lady with an absent manner, and she seemed +to cause Mr. Parr a considerable amount of anxiety. He scarcely took +his eyes from her as she moved about the room, and she hardly spoke +before he jumped in to interrupt her, always politely, but always very +definitely. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector’s supper was set upon a tray; he had just about finished +when Jack had knocked at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’ll excuse our untidiness, Mr.—er——” +</p> + +<p> +“Beardmore,” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll never remember it,” murmured the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t keep the place as mother kept it,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not, of course not, auntie,” said Mr. Parr hurriedly. “A +little absent,” he murmured. “Now what did you want to know, Mr. +Beardmore?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack laughingly excused himself for his call. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle is such a complicated business that I suspect +every new agent to be the central figure,” he said. “Do you think that +the arrest of Brabazon is going to help us?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” replied Parr slowly. “There is just a chance that +Brabazon will be a very big help indeed. By the way, I’ve put one of +my own men to look after him, and I have given instructions that the +jailer is not to go into the cell under any circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re thinking of Sibly, the sailor, who was poisoned?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think, Mr. Beardmore, that that was one of the greatest +mysteries of all the mysterious Crimson Circle murders?” +</p> + +<p> +He asked this question very soberly, but there was a little glint in +his eye which Jack did not fail to notice. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re laughing. Why? I think it was mysterious, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” said the inspector. “In some respects, and the poisoning of +Sibly will, to my mind, be a much more important factor in the +eventual capture of the Crimson Circle than is the arrest of our +friend Brabazon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t talk about crime and criminals,” said his aunt +fretfully; “really, John, you are very trying. It may have suited +mother——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course, auntie; I’m sorry,” said Parr hurriedly, and when she +had left the room, Jack Beardmore’s curiosity got the better of his +discretion. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother seems to have been rather a paragon,” he smiled, and wondered +if he had made a <i>faux pas</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The answering laugh reassured him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, rather a paragon; she is not staying with us just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is she your mother, Mr. Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my grandmother,” said Mr. Parr, and Jack looked at him in +astonishment. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch28"> +Chapter XXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Shot in the Night</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> inspector must have been nearly fifty, and he made a rapid +calculation as to the age of this wonderful grandmother who took an +interest in crime, and kept the house tidy. +</p> + +<p> +“She must be a wonderful old lady,” he said, “and I suppose she’d even +be interested in the Crimson Circle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Interested!” Mr. Parr laughed. “If mother was on the track of that +gang with the same authority as I have, they would be high and dry in +Cannon Street police station to-night. As it is,” he paused, “they are +not.” +</p> + +<p> +All the time they were talking Jack was puzzling his head as to why, +in spite of its order, the room gave him an impression of untidiness. +But he was not left to his own thoughts for very long, for Mr. Parr +was in an unusually communicative mood. He even went so far as to tell +Jack some of the unpleasant things said to him by the Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally police head-quarters are rather rattled by the continuance +of these crimes,” he said. “We haven’t had anything like this for +fifty years. In fact, I don’t think since the Ripper murders there has +been such an orgy of destruction. It may interest you, too, Mr. +Beardmore, to know that the Crimson Circle, whoever he is, is the +first real organising criminal we have had to deal with for nearly +fifty years. Criminal organisations are loose affairs, and as they +depend for their safety upon that sense of honour which every thief is +supposed to possess, but which I have never met with, the game doesn’t +last very long. The Crimson Circle, however, is a man who obviously +trusts nobody. He cannot be betrayed because nobody is in a position +to betray him. Even the minor members of the gang cannot betray one +another, because it is just as clear to me that they do not know one +another by name or by sight.” +</p> + +<p> +He went on to discuss interestingly cases in which he had been +concerned, and it was nearly half-past eleven when Jack rose with a +further apology. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you to the front door; your car is here, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Jack. “I came by taxi.” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” said the inspector. “I thought I saw a car drawn up in front of +the door. We are not a motor-car owning neighbourhood; probably it is +a doctor’s machine.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door, and, as he had said, a black car was drawn up at +the kerb. +</p> + +<p> +“I seem to have seen that before,” said the inspector, and took a step +forward. As he did so a pencil of flame leapt from the dark interior +of the car; there was a deafening report, and Inspector Parr fell into +Jack’s arms and slid to the ground. A second later and the car was +speeding up the street; it showed no light and vanished round the +corner as the doors in the street began to open and to let out the +alarmed residents. +</p> + +<p> +A policeman came running along the pavement, and together they lifted +the detective and carried him into the dining-room. Happily the aunt +had gone to bed, and had apparently heard and noticed nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr opened his eyes and blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a nasty one,” he said with a wince of pain. He felt gingerly +in his waistcoat and brought out a flat piece of lead. “I’m glad he +didn’t use an automatic,” he said, and then, seeing the blank +amazement on Jack’s face, he grinned. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle gentleman is only one of three who wear a +bullet-proof waistcoat,” he said. “I am the second, and—” he paused, +“Thalia Drummond is the third, as I happen to know.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak again for some time, and then he said to Jack: +</p> + +<p> +“Will you telephone to Derrick Yale? I think he is going to be +considerably startled.” +</p> + +<p> +The prophecy understated the case. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale arrived half an hour after the shooting in such haste +that his appearance suggested that he had dressed over his pyjama +suit. He listened to Parr’s story, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to be uncomplimentary, inspector,” he laughed, “but +you’re the last person in the world I should have thought they would +have wanted to shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Parr, who was gingerly fixing a lint pad over his +bruised chest. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mean that as uncomplimentary; I merely mean that such a +definite challenge to the police is the last thing in the world I +expected them to deliver.” He frowned heavily. “I don’t understand +it,” he said as though speaking to himself. “I wonder why she wanted +to know. I’m talking about Thalia Drummond. She asked me this morning +what was your address,” he said. “I understand your name is not even +in the telephone book or in the local directory.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave her some evasive answer, but I’ve just remembered that my +private address book is accessible, and she could easily have +discovered it without troubling to ask me. I wonder she didn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack gave a weary sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Yale, you’re not suggesting that Miss Drummond fired that +shot, are you? Because, if you are, it’s a ridiculous suggestion. Oh, +I know what you’re going to say: she’s a bad lot and has been guilty +of all sorts of miserable little crimes, but that doesn’t make her a +murderess!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite right,” replied Yale after a pause. “I’m being unjust to +the girl, and it doesn’t seem that I’m starting fair if I am sincere +in my desire to give her a chance. I wanted to see you to-night, by +the way, Parr.” He took from his pocket a card and laid it on the +table before the inspector. “How does that strike you for nerve?” +</p> + +<p> +“When did you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was waiting in the letter-box for me, but I didn’t see it, +curiously enough, until I was rushing out to find a taxi to bring me +here. Isn’t it colossal?” +</p> + +<p> +The card bore a symbol familiar enough to the two men, but at the very +sight of that Crimson Circle, Jack shuddered. Within the hoop was +written: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>You are serving the losing side. Serve us instead and you shall be +rewarded tenfold. Continue your present work, and you die on the +fourth of next month.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“That gives you about ten days,” said Parr seriously, and it might +have been the pain he had suffered, or excitement, but he seemed +suddenly to lose his colour. “Ten days,” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I take not the slightest notice of that threat,” said +Derrick Yale cheerfully. “I must confess that after my unpleasant +experience at the office I almost credit them with supernatural +gifts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten days,” repeated the detective. “Have you made any plans? +Ordinarily, where would you be on the fourth of next month?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is curious that you should ask that,” said Yale, “but I had +arranged to go down to Deal for some fishing. A friend of mine has +lent me a motor-launch, and I thought of spending the night in the +Channel; in fact, I had arranged to go on that day.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can make what arrangements you like, but you are not going +alone,” said Parr emphatically. “And now you can all clear out. Thank +your lucky stars that my aunt has not wakened, and that mother isn’t +here!” +</p> + +<p> +The last he said was intended for Jack, and Jack smiled +understandingly. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch29"> +Chapter XXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“The Red Circle”</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was Harvey Froyant’s boast that he trusted nobody completely. He +trusted the lawyer up to a point, but his known connection with +questionable people would have been alone sufficient to prevent Harvey +from trusting implicitly to his agent. +</p> + +<p> +Two nights after the shooting of Inspector Parr the little lawyer +called on his employer, and he was all a-quiver with excitement. He +had traced one of the new series of bank-notes which the Crimson +Circle had taken from Brabazon. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, we’ve got a good line on this, Mr. Froyant, and if we continue +in the direction we are going, we can certainly pick up the original +changer.” +</p> + +<p> +But here Mr. Harvey Froyant was firm. He could not and would not place +the case completely in the hands of this man. So far might the +knowledgeable firm of Heggitt take him, but he would carry on the rest +through another agency. He said so in as many words. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry you won’t let me go on with it,” said the disappointed +Heggitt. “I have undertaken this search personally, and I can assure +you that there are only a few steps now between the man we discovered +with the money and the man you are looking for.” +</p> + +<p> +Harvey Froyant knew that as well as the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +Jack Beardmore had spoken a great truth when he said that this mean +man would never be satisfied until he had recovered the money he had +lost. It was a goad and an irritation, a source of thought which kept +him awake at night and woke him in the morning with a sense of blank +despair. +</p> + +<p> +And Harvey was well equipped to carry the investigations to their +final stage now that he had the ground clear for him. He had derived +his fortune from buying and selling land in every country in the +world. Beginning with practically no capital, he had, by personal +application to his business, built up a seven figure fortune. And this +had not been accomplished by sitting in an office and trusting to +subordinates. It had involved considerable travel, restless inquiry +and relentless probing into the private circumstances of negotiators, +a peculiarity he had shared with James Beardmore, though this he did +not know. +</p> + +<p> +He took up his own case with alacrity, and informed neither Yale nor +Parr of his intentions. +</p> + +<p> +As Heggitt had said, it was a fairly simple matter to trace the note, +for at least three stages. His investigations brought Mr. Froyant +successively to a money-changer’s in the Strand, a tourist office and +finally to a highly respectable bank. And here he was particularly +favoured, for it was a branch of one of the banks which conducted his +business. +</p> + +<p> +For three days he pried and questioned, searched books—which he had +no right to search—and slowly but surely he came to a conclusion. He +was not, however, satisfied to leave the matter with the discovery of +the original passer of the note. Not even the bank manager, who gave +him facilities for examining private accounts, and was afterwards +reprimanded by his superiors for doing so, knew exactly what object he +had, or against whom his investigations were directed. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning of the first day Froyant left hurriedly for France. He +spent only two hours in Paris, and the night found him on his way to +the south. Toulouse he reached at nine o’clock in the morning; here +again luck was with him, for an important official of the city had +been an agent of his in a purchase he had made a few years before. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Brassard offered his guest an emphatic welcome, which Mr. +Froyant discounted on the ground that his former agent was under the +impression that a new deal and a new commission was in prospect. This +seemed to be the case, for he was less enthusiastic when he learnt the +object of the visit. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not trouble myself with these matters,” he said, shaking his +head, “for although I am a lawyer, my dear Mr. Froyant, my practice +does not touch the criminal court.” He stroked his long beard +thoughtfully. “I remember Marl very well indeed—Marl and another man, +an Englishman, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“A man named Lightman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that was the fellow. Good gracious, yes!” He made a grimace of +disgust. “Of course, that is common history,” he went on. “They were +scoundrels, those men. One shot the cashier and the watchman of the +Nimes Bank, and there were two murders here in Toulouse with which +their names were associated. I remember their names very well—and the +terrible incident!” He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“What terrible incident?” asked Mr. Froyant curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“It was when Lightman was led to execution. I think our executioners +must have been drunk, for the knife did not work; twice, three times +it fell, but only just touched his neck. And when the horrified +spectators interfered—you know our French people are very +emotional—there would have been a riot if they had not taken the +prisoner back to gaol. Yes, the Red Circle escaped the knife.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant, who was sipping a cup of coffee, leapt to his feet, +overturning the cup and its contents. +</p> + +<p> +“The what?” he almost shouted. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Brassard looked at him open-mouthed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what is wrong, m’sieur?” he asked, one eye on the damaged +carpet. +</p> + +<p> +“The Red Circle! What do you mean?” demanded Froyant, trembling with +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“That was Lightman,” nodded Brassard, astonished at the effect his +words produced. “It was his public name. But my clerk will know more, +for he was interested in the matter, which I was not.” +</p> + +<p> +He rang the bell, and an elderly Frenchman came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember the Red Circle, Jules?” +</p> + +<p> +The aged Jules nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, m’sieur. I was at the execution. What horror!” He raised +his two hands in an expressive gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Why was he called the Red Circle?” demanded Froyant. +</p> + +<p> +“Because of a mark.” The man drew his long finger about his neck. +“Around his throat, m’sieur, was a red circle; it was the colour of +his skin, and it was a legend long before the execution that no knife +would ever touch him, for such marks are said to be charmed. I think +it was a birth-mark, but I know that on the way to the execution I met +a great number of people—my friend Thiep, for example—who were sure +that the execution would not take place. If they were as sure that the +executioner and his assistants would be drunk,” added Jules, “and that +they had put up the guillotine in the morning so badly that the knife +would not work, I think they would have been more intelligent.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Froyant was now breathing quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little the truth was being revealed, and now he saw the +whole thing clearly. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened to the Red Circle?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” shrugged Jules. “He was sent to one of the island +settlements, but Marl was released because he had given evidence for +the Republic. I heard some time ago that Lightman had escaped, but I +don’t know how true that is.” +</p> + +<p> +Lightman had escaped, as Froyant had already guessed. He passed that +day in a feverish search of all available documents, in a visit to the +Public Prosecutor, and he ended a strenuous twelve hours in the bureau +of the prison governor, examining photographs. +</p> + +<p> +It may be said that Mr. Harvey Froyant went to bed that night in the +Hotel Anglaise with a feeling of complete satisfaction, and with the +added pleasure that he had succeeded where the cleverest police had +failed. The secret of the Crimson Circle was no longer a secret. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch30"> +Chapter XXX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Silencing of Froyant</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Harvey Froyant’s</span> visit to France had not escaped attention, and both +Derrick Yale and Inspector Parr knew that he had gone; so also did the +Crimson Circle, if Thalia Drummond’s telegram reached its destination. +</p> + +<p> +Curiously enough these telegrams and messages which Thalia was sending +was the excuse for Derrick Yale’s call at police head-quarters, on the +very evening that Mr. Froyant was returning triumphantly from France. +</p> + +<p> +Parr, returning to his office, found Yale sitting at the inspector’s +table, delighting a small but select audience of police officials with +an exhibition of his curious power. +</p> + +<p> +His ability in this direction was amazing. From a ring which a police +inspector handed him he told the mystified hearer not only his known +history but, to his confusion, a little secret history of the man’s +life. +</p> + +<p> +As Parr came in his assistant gave him a sealed envelope. He glanced +at the typewritten address, and then laid it on Yale’s outstretched +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me who sent that?” he said, and Yale laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“A very small man with an absurd yellow beard; he talks through his +nose and keeps a shop.” +</p> + +<p> +A slow smile dawned on Parr’s face. +</p> + +<p> +Yale added: +</p> + +<p> +“And that isn’t psychometry, because I happen to know it is from Mr. +Johnson of Mildred Street.” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled at the inspector’s blank expression, and when they were +alone, explained. +</p> + +<p> +“I happen to know that you discovered the place to which all the +Crimson Circle messages were sent. I, on the contrary, have known of +its existence for a long time, and every message which has been sent +to the Crimson Circle has been read by me. Mr. Johnson told me you +were making inquiries, and I asked him to give you a very full +explanation in the addressed envelope which you sent to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you knew it all the time?” asked Parr slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that messages intended for the Crimson Circle have been +addressed to this little newsagent, and that every afternoon and +evening a small boy calls to collect them. It is a humiliating +confession to make, but I have never been able to trace the person who +picks the boy’s pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Picks his pocket?” repeated Parr, and Yale enjoyed the mystery. +</p> + +<p> +“The boy’s instructions are to put the letters in his pocket, and to +walk into the crowded High Street. Whilst he is there somebody takes +them from his pocket without his being any the wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr sat down on the chair which Yale had vacated, and +rubbed his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re an amazing fellow,” he said. “And what else have you +discovered?” +</p> + +<p> +“What I have all along suspected,” said Yale, “that Thalia Drummond is +in communication with the Crimson Circle and has given him every scrap +of information which she has been able to gather.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do about that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I told you all along that she would lead us to the Crimson Circle,” +said Yale quietly, “and sooner or later I am sure my predictions will +be justified. It is nearly two months since I induced our friend who +keeps a small newsagent’s shop to which letters may be addressed, to +give me the first look over all letters addressed to Johnson. He +wanted a little inducing, because our newsagent is a very honest, +straightforward man, but it is my experience, and probably yours, that +the mere suggestion that a man is assisting the cause of justice will +induce him to commit the most outrageous acts of disloyalty. I took +the liberty of suggesting, without stating, that I was a regular +police officer; I hope you don’t mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are times when I think you should be a regular police officer,” +said Parr. “So Thalia Drummond is in communication with the Crimson +Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall continue to employ her, of course,” said Yale. “The closer +she is to me, the less dangerous she will be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did Froyant go abroad?” asked Parr. +</p> + +<p> +The other shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“He has many business connections abroad, and probably is engaged in a +deal. He owns about a third of the vineyards in the Champagne. I +suppose you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector nodded. Then, for some reason or other, a silence fell +upon them. Each man was busy with his own thoughts, and Mr. Parr +particularly was thinking of Froyant, and wondering why he had gone to +Toulouse. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you know he had gone to Toulouse?” asked Derrick Yale. +</p> + +<p> +The question was so unexpected, such a startling continuation of his +own thoughts, that Parr jumped. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” he said, “can you read a man’s mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” said Yale, unsmilingly. “I thought he had gone to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +“He went to Toulouse,” said the inspector shortly, and did not explain +how he came to know. +</p> + +<p> +Possibly nothing Derrick Yale had ever done, no demonstration he had +given of his gifts, had so disconcerted this placid inspector of +police as that experiment in thought transference. It alarmed, indeed, +frightened him, and he was still shaken in his mind when Harvey +Froyant’s telephone call came through. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Parr? I want you to come to my house. Bring Yale with +you. I have a very important communication to make.” +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr hung up the receiver deliberately. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what the devil does he know?” he said, speaking to himself, and +Derrick Yale’s keen eyes, which had not left the inspector’s face all +the time he was speaking, shone for a moment with a strange light. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond had finished her simple dinner and was engaged in the +domestic task of darning a stocking. Her undomestic task, which was of +greater urgency, was to prevent herself thinking of Jack Beardmore. +There were times when the thought of him was an acute agony, and since +such moments of quietness and solitude as these were favourable for +such meditation, she had just put down her work and turned to +something new for distraction, when the door bell rang. +</p> + +<p> +It was a district messenger, and he carried in his hand a square +parcel that looked like a boot box. +</p> + +<p> +It was addressed to her in pen-printed characters, and she had a +little flutter at her heart as she realised from whom it had come. +</p> + +<p> +Back in her room she cut the string and opened the box. On the top lay +a letter which she read. It was from the Crimson Circle, and ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>You know the way into Froyant’s house. There is an entrance from the +garden into the bomb-proof shelter beneath his study. Gain admission, +taking with you the contents of this box. Wait in the underground room +until I give you further instructions.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She lifted out the contents of the box. The first article was a large +gauntlet glove that reached almost to her elbow. It was a man’s glove, +and left-handed. The only other thing in the box was a long, +sharp-pointed knife with a cup-like guard. She handled it carefully, +feeling the edge; it was as sharp as a razor. For a long time she sat +looking at the weapon and the glove, and then she got up and went to +the telephone and gave a number. She waited for a long time, until the +operator told her there was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at her watch. It was past eight already, and she had no +time to lose. She put the glove and the knife in a big leather +hand-bag, wrapped herself in her cloak, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later, Derrick Yale and Mr. Parr ascended the steps of +Froyant’s residence and were admitted by a servant. The first thing +Derrick Yale noticed was that the passage was brilliantly illuminated; +all the lights in the hall were on, and even the lamps on the landing +above were in full blaze, a curious circumstance, remembering Mr. +Harvey Froyant’s parsimony. Usually he contented himself with one +feeble light in the hall, and any room in the house that was not in +use was in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +The library was a room opening from the main hall; the door was wide +open, and the visitors saw that the room was as brilliantly lighted as +the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Harvey Froyant was sitting at his desk, a smile on his tired face, but +for all his weariness there was self-satisfaction in every gesture, +every note in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, gentlemen,” he said almost jovially, “I’m going to give you a +little information which I think will startle and amuse you.” He +chuckled and rubbed his hands. “I have just called up the Chief +Commissioner, Parr,” he said, peering up at the stout detective. “In a +case like this one wants to be on the safe side. Anything may happen +to you two gentlemen after you leave this house, and we cannot have +too many people in our secret. Will you take your overcoats off? I am +going to tell you a story which may take some time.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the telephone bell trilled, and they stood watching him +as he took down the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, colonel,” he said. “I have a very important communication +to make; may I call you up in a second or two? You will be there? +Good.” He replaced the instrument. They saw him frown undecidedly, and +then: +</p> + +<p> +“I think I’ll talk to the colonel now, if you don’t mind stepping into +another room and closing the door. I don’t want to anticipate the +little sensation which I am creating.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said Parr, and walked from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this communication about the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you,” said Mr. Froyant. “Just give me five minutes and +then you shall have your thrill of sensation.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale laughed, and Parr, who had reached the hall, smiled in +sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“It takes a lot to thrill me,” said Derrick. +</p> + +<p> +He came out of the room, stood for a moment with the door edge in his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“And afterwards I think I shall be able to tell you something about +our young friend Drummond,” he said. “Oh, I know you’re not +interested, but this little fact will interest you perhaps as much as +the story you are going to tell us.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr saw him smile, and guessed that Froyant had growled something +uncomplimentary about Thalia Drummond. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale closed the door softly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what his sensation is, Parr,” he mused thoughtfully. “And +what the dickens has he to tell your colonel?” +</p> + +<p> +They walked into the front drawing-room, which was equally well +lighted. +</p> + +<p> +“This is unusual, isn’t it, Steere?” said Derrick Yale, who knew the +butler. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the stately man. “Mr. Froyant is not as a rule +extravagant in the matter of current. But he told me that he’d want +all the lights to-night, and that he was not taking any risks, +whatever that might mean. I’ve never known him to do such a thing. +He’s got two loaded revolvers in his pocket—that is what strikes me +as queer. He hates firearms, does Mr. Froyant, as a rule.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know he has revolvers?” asked Parr sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I loaded them for him,” replied the butler. “I used to be in +the Yeomanry, and I understand the use of weapons. One of them is +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale whistled and looked at the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks as if he not only knows the Crimson Circle, but he expects a +visit,” he said. “By the way, have you any men on hand?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“There are a couple of detectives in the street; I told them to hang +around in case they were wanted,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They could not hear Froyant’s voice at the telephone, for the house +was solidly built, and the walls were thick. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour passed, and Yale grew impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you ask him if he wants us, Steere?” he said, but the butler +shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t interrupt him, sir. Perhaps one of you gentlemen would go in. +We never go in unless we are rung for.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr was half-way out of the room, and in an instant had flung open +the door of Harvey Froyant’s study. The lights were blazing, and he +had no doubt of what had happened from the second his eyes fell upon +the figure huddled back in his chair. Harvey Froyant was dead. The +handle of a knife projected from his left breast, a knife with a steel +cup-like guard. On the narrow desk was a blood-stained leather +gauntlet. +</p> + +<p> +It was the startled cry of Parr that brought Derrick Yale rushing into +the room. Parr’s face was as white as death as he stared at the tragic +figure in the chair, and neither man spoke a word. +</p> + +<p> +Then Parr spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Call my men in,” he said. “Nobody is to leave this house. Tell the +butler to assemble the servants in the kitchen and to keep them +there.” +</p> + +<p> +He took in every detail of the room. Across the big windows which +looked on to a square of green at the back of the house, heavy velvet +curtains were drawn. He pulled them aside. Behind these were shutters +and they were securely fastened. +</p> + +<p> +How had Harvey Froyant been killed? +</p> + +<p> +His desk was opposite the fire-place, and the desk was a narrow +Jacobean affair which would have distracted any ordinary man by its +lack of width, but it was a favourite of the dead financier. +</p> + +<p> +From which way had the murderer approached him? From behind? The knife +was thrust in a downward direction, and the theory that his assailant +came upon him unawares was at least plausible. But why the glove? +Inspector Parr handled it gingerly. It was a leather gauntlet, such as +a chauffeur uses, and had been well worn. +</p> + +<p> +His next move was to call the Police Commissioner and, as he had +suspected, the colonel was waiting for a communication from Harvey +Froyant. +</p> + +<p> +“Then he did not telephone to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. What has happened?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr told him briefly, and listened unmoved to the almost incoherent +fury of his chief at the other end of the wire. Presently he hung up +the receiver and went back to the hall, to find his men already +posted. +</p> + +<p> +“I am searching every room in the house,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He was gone half an hour, and returned to Derrick Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Yale eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he said. “There is nobody here who has no right to be +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did they get into the room? The hall-way was never empty except +when Steere came into the drawing-room.” +</p> + +<p> +“There may be a trap in the floor,” suggested Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“There are no traps in drawing-room floors in the West End of London,” +snapped Parr, but a further search had a surprising result. +</p> + +<p> +Turning up one corner of the carpet, a small trap-door was discovered, +and the butler explained that in the days of the war, when air raids +were a nightly occurrence, Mr. Froyant had had a bomb-proof shelter +constructed of concrete in a lower wine cellar, ingress to which was +gained by means of a flight of stairs leading from his study. +</p> + +<p> +Parr went down the stairs with a lighted candle and discovered himself +in a small, square, cell-like room. There was a door, which was +locked, but, searching the body of Harvey Froyant, they found a master +key. Beyond the first door was a second of steel and this brought them +into the open. +</p> + +<p> +The houses in the street shared a common strip of lawn and shrubbery. +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite possible to get into here through the gate at the end of +the garden,” said Yale, “and I should say that the murderer came this +way.” +</p> + +<p> +He was flashing his electric lamp along the ground. Suddenly he went +down on to the ground and peered. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is a recent footprint,” he said, “and a woman’s!” +</p> + +<p> +Parr looked over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think there is any doubt about that,” he said. “It is +recent.” +</p> + +<p> +And then suddenly he stepped back. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” he gasped in awe-stricken tones. “What a devilish plot!” +</p> + +<p> +For it came upon him with a rush that this was the footprint of Thalia +Drummond. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch31"> +Chapter XXXI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia Answers a Few Questions</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Derrick Yale</span> sat with his head on his hands, reading a newspaper. He +had read a dozen that morning, and one by one he had cast them aside +to open another. +</p> + +<p> +“Under the eyes of the police,” he quoted. “Incompetence at Police +Head-quarters.” He shook his head. “They are giving our poor friend +Parr a bad time in this morning’s press,” he said as he threw the +paper aside, “and yet he was as incapable of preventing that crime as +you or I, Miss Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond looked a little peaked that morning. There were dark +circles about her eyes, and an air of general listlessness which was +in contrast to her usual cheerful buoyancy. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re in that game you expect to get kicks, don’t you?” she asked +coolly. “The police can’t have it all their own way.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You aren’t a particular admirer of police methods, are you, Miss +Drummond?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not tremendously,” she replied, as she laid a stack of correspondence +before him. “You aren’t expecting me to get up testimonials to the +efficiency of head-quarters, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a strange girl,” he said. “Sometimes I think that you were +born without compassion. And you worked for Froyant, too, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“You lived some time in the house?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not reply, but her grey eyes met his steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“I did live some time in the house,” she admitted. “Why do you ask +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wondered if you knew of the existence of this underground room?” +said Derrick Yale carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I knew of the room. Poor Mr. Froyant made no secret of his +cleverness. He has told me a dozen times how much it cost,” she added +with a faint smile. +</p> + +<p> +He cogitated a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Where were the keys usually kept that opened the door of the +bomb-proof room?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Mr. Froyant’s desk. Are you suggesting that I have had access to +them, or that I was concerned in last night’s murder?” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not suggesting anything,” he said. “I am merely inquiring, and +as you seem to know a great deal more about the house than most of the +people who live in it, my curiosity is natural. Would it be possible, +do you think, to push up that trap without making a noise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite,” she said. “The trap-door works on counter-balances. Are you +going to answer any of those letters?” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed the pile of letters aside. +</p> + +<p> +“What were you doing last night, Miss Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +This time his method was more direct. +</p> + +<p> +“I spent my evening at home,” she said. Her hands went behind her, and +that curious rigidity which he had noticed before stiffened her frame. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you spend the whole of the evening at home?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it a fact that about half-past eight you went out, carrying a +small parcel?” +</p> + +<p> +Again she made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“One of my men accidentally saw you,” said Derrick Yale carelessly, +“and then lost sight of you. Where did you spend the evening—you did +not return to your flat until nearly eleven o’clock at night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I went for a walk,” said Thalia Drummond coolly. “If you will give me +a map of London, I will endeavour to retrace my footsteps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose some of them have already been traced?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case,” she said quietly, “I am saved the bother of telling +you where I went.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now look here, Miss Drummond,” he leant across the table. “I am +perfectly sure that you are not, in your heart of hearts, a murderess. +That word makes you wince, and it is an ugly one. But there are +suspicious circumstances which I have not yet revealed to Parr about +your movements last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Being under suspicion is a normal condition with me,” she said, “and +since you know so much, it is quite unnecessary for me to tell you +more.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her, but she returned his gaze without faltering, and +then with a shrug of his shoulders, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I don’t think it matters where you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m almost inclined to agree with you,” she mocked him, and went back +to her office and her typewriter. +</p> + +<p> +“An amazing personality,” thought Derrick Yale. +</p> + +<p> +Women did not ordinarily interest him, but Thalia Drummond was beyond +and outside of the general run. Her beauty had no appeal for him; he +knew she was pretty, just as he knew his office door was painted brown +and that the colour of a penny stamp was red. +</p> + +<p> +He took up the paper again and re-read some of the comments upon the +inefficiency of police head-quarters, and soon after, as he had +expected, Parr came into the room with a certain briskness and dropped +into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissioner has asked for my resignation,” he said, and to the +other’s surprise, his voice was almost cheerful. “I’m not worrying. I +intended to retire three years ago when my brother left me his money.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the first intimation Derrick Yale had received that Inspector +Parr was a comparatively rich man. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” he asked, and Parr smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“In Government offices when you are asked to resign, you resign,” he +said drily. “But my resignation will not take effect until the end of +next month. I must wait and see what happens to you, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“To me?” said Derrick in surprise. “Oh, you mean the warning that I am +to be polished off on the fourth? Let me see, there are only two or +three days of life left for me,” he laughed ironically as he glanced +at the calendar. “I don’t think you need wait for that. But, joking +apart, why resign at all? Do you think if I saw the Commissioner——” +</p> + +<p> +“He’d take much less notice of you than he would of a row of beans if +they started articulating,” said Mr. Parr. “As a matter of fact, he +isn’t taking me off the case until my resignation comes into effect, +and I have you to thank for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me?” +</p> + +<p> +The stout inspector was laughing silently. +</p> + +<p> +“I told him that your life was so precious to the country that it was +necessary I should remain on duty until I had got you over the fatal +date,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond came in at that moment with another batch of +correspondence. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Miss Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector raised his eyes to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been reading about you this morning,” said Thalia coolly. +“You’re becoming quite a public character, Mr. Parr.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything for the sake of a little advertisement,” murmured the +inspector without resentment. “It is a long time since I saw your name +in the paper, Miss Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +His reference to her appearance in a police court seemed to afford +Thalia a great deal of amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have my share in time,” she said. “What is the latest news +about the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +“The latest news,” said Mr. Parr slowly, “is that all correspondence +addressed to the Crimson Circle of Mildred Street must in future be +sent elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw her face change; it was only a momentary flash, but the effect +was very gratifying to Inspector Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“Are they opening offices in the city?” she asked, recovering herself +rapidly. “I don’t see why they shouldn’t. They seem to do almost as +much as they like, and I don’t see why they should not live in a very +handsome block with elevators and electric signs—no, I don’t think +they’d better have electric signs, because even the police would see +them!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sarcasm in a young woman,” said Mr. Parr severely, “is not only +unbecoming, it is indecent!” +</p> + +<p> +Yale was listening to this exchange with a delighted smile. If the +girl surprised him, there were moments when Inspector Parr surprised +him as much. This heavy man had a very light malicious touch when he +wished. +</p> + +<p> +“And where were you last night, Miss Drummond?” asked Parr, his eyes +on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“In bed and dreaming,” said Thalia Drummond. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must have been walking in your sleep when you were loafing +about at the back of Froyant’s house about half-past nine,” suggested +the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“So that is it, eh?” said Thalia. “You found my dainty footsteps in +the garden? Mr. Yale has hinted as much already. No, inspector, I went +for a walk in the park at night. The solitude is very inspiring.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Parr regarded the carpet attentively. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, when you walk in the park, young lady, keep at some distance +from Jack Beardmore, because the last time you trailed him, you scared +him!” +</p> + +<p> +He had hit truly this time. Her face flushed crimson and her delicate +eyebrows met in a frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Beardmore isn’t easily scared,” she said, “and +besides—besides——” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she turned and went from the room, and when Parr, after a +little further conversation, also went into the outer office, she +looked up at him and scowled. +</p> + +<p> +“There are times, inspector, when I positively hate you!” she said +vehemently. +</p> + +<p> +“You surprise me,” said Inspector Parr. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch32"> +Chapter XXXII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Trip to the Country</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Police</span> head-quarters was on its trial. The uncomfortable amount of +space which the newspapers were giving to the latest of these +tragedies which were associated with the name of Crimson Circle, the +questions which were on the paper to be asked in Parliament, no less +than the conferences behind closed doors at head-quarters, and the +aloofness of all who were ordinarily connected with Inspector Parr in +his work, were ominous signs which he did not fail to appreciate. +</p> + +<p> +There was hardly a newspaper which did not publish a very complete +list of the outrages for which the Crimson Circle was responsible, and +not one which did not mention pointedly the damning fact that from the +very beginning of the Circle’s activity, Inspector Parr had had charge +of the various cases. +</p> + +<p> +He asked for, and was granted, leave to make enquiries in France. +During his few days’ absence, his superiors arranged for his +successor. He had only one friend at head-quarters, and that curiously +and strangely enough was Colonel Morton, the Commissioner in control +of Parr’s department. +</p> + +<p> +Morton fought his case, but knew that it was a hopeless one from the +beginning. In this he had the assistance of Derrick Yale. Yale made an +early call at head-quarters and gave the fullest particulars with the +object of exonerating his official colleague. +</p> + +<p> +“The mere fact that I was on the spot, and that I had been specially +engaged to protect Froyant, must take a lot of responsibility from +Parr’s shoulders,” he urged. +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner leant back in his chair and folded his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Mr. Yale,” he said bluntly, “but +officially you have no existence, and I am afraid that nothing you +will say is going to help Mr. Parr. He has had his chance—in fact, he +has had several chances, and he has missed them.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as Yale was going the Commissioner beckoned him to remain. +</p> + +<p> +“You can throw light upon one subject, Mr. Yale,” he said. “It has +reference to the killing of the man who shot James Beardmore: you +remember Sibly, the sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale nodded, and resumed the seat he had vacated. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was in the cell when you were taking this man’s evidence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Myself, Mr. Parr and an official shorthand writer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Man or woman?” asked the Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +“A man. I think he was a member of your staff. And that was all. The +jailer came in once or twice; in fact he came in while we were there, +and brought the water, which was found afterwards to contain the +poison.” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner opened a folder and selected from many documents a +sheet of foolscap. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the jailer’s statement,” he said. “I’ll save you the +preliminaries, but this is what he says,” said the Commissioner; he +fixed his glasses and read slowly: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“The prisoner sat on his bed. Mr. Parr was sitting facing him and Mr. +Yale was standing with his back to the cell door, which was open when +I went in. I took a tin mug half full of water which I drew from a +faucet which had been fixed for the purpose of supplying drinking +water. I remember putting the tin down whilst I attended a bell call +from another cell. So far as I know it was impossible that this tin +could be tampered with, though it is true that the door into the yard +was open. When I went into the cell Mr. Parr took the tin from my +hand, and set it on a ledge near the door and told me not to interrupt +them.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“You notice that no reference is made to the shorthand-writer. Was he +obtained locally, do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m almost sure he was from your office.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must ask Parr about that,” said the Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr (who had returned from France) when questioned on the +telephone, admitted that the shorthand-writer was a local man whom he +had secured by making enquiries in the little town. In the confusion +which had followed the discovery that Sibly was dead, he had not +thought to enquire about the man’s identity. +</p> + +<p> +A typewritten transcript of Sibly’s statement had been given to him, +and he remembered indistinctly paying the writer for his trouble. That +was as far as he could help the Commissioner, whose information on the +subject was not greatly increased. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale waited whilst this telephonic communication was in +progress, and when the colonel had finished, he gathered from his +dissatisfied expression that Parr’s information was of no particular +value. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t remember the man yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +Yale shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“His back was to me, most of the time,” he said, “and he sat by the +side of Parr.” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner muttered something about gross carelessness, and +then: +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t be surprised if your shorthand-writer was an emissary of +the Crimson Circle,” he said. “It was a piece of criminal neglect to +have taken a man whose identity cannot be established for such an +important piece of work. Yes, Parr has failed.” He sighed. “I am +sorry, in many ways. I like Parr. Of course, he’s one of the +old-fashioned police officers whom you bright outside men affect to +despise, and he hasn’t any extraordinary gifts, although he has been, +in his time, a remarkably good officer. But he’ll have to go. That is +decided. I may tell you this, because I have already made the same +intimation to Parr himself. It is a thousand pities.” +</p> + +<p> +It was no news to Yale: nor was it news to the youngest officer at +police head-quarters. +</p> + +<p> +But the person who seemed least concerned was Inspector Parr himself. +He went about his routine work as though unconscious that any +extraordinary change in his position was contemplated, and even when +he met his successor, who came to look at the office he was shortly to +occupy, was geniality itself. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon he met Jack Beardmore by accident in the park, and Jack +was struck by the stout little man’s good spirits. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, inspector,” said Jack, “are we any nearer the end?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we are,” he said. “The end of me.” +</p> + +<p> +This was the first definite news Jack had received of the inspector’s +retirement. +</p> + +<p> +“But surely you’re not going? You have all the threads in your hands, +Mr. Parr. They can’t be so foolish as to dispense with you at this +very critical moment unless they have given up all hope of capturing +the scoundrel.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr thought “they” had given up all hope long ago, but the +attitude of head-quarters was a subject which he did not care to +pursue. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was going down to his country house. He had not visited the place +since his father’s death, and he would not have gone now but the +necessity had arisen for revising a number of farm leases, and since +the business could not be done in town, and there were other matters +which needed local attention, he decided to spend a night in a place +which had, in addition to the memory of this tragedy, memories almost +as distasteful. +</p> + +<p> +“Going down into the country are you?” said Mr. Parr thoughtfully. +“Alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Jack, and then as he guessed the other’s thoughts, he +asked eagerly, “You would not care to come down as my guest, would +you, Mr. Parr? I should be delighted if you could, but I suppose this +Crimson Circle investigation will keep you in town.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think they’ll get on very well without me,” said Mr. Parr grimly. +“Yes, I think I should like to come down with you. I haven’t been to +the house since your poor father’s death, and I should like to go over +the grounds again.” +</p> + +<p> +He asked for an additional two days’ leave, and head-quarters, which +would have willingly dispensed with him for the remainder of his +lifetime, agreed. +</p> + +<p> +As Jack was leaving that night the inspector went home, packed a small +Gladstone bag, and met him at the station. +</p> + +<p> +Neither the weather nor the roads were conducive to a long motor-car +journey, and on the whole the inspector agreed that travelling by +train was more comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +He had left a little note addressed to Derrick Yale, telling him where +he was going, and added at the foot: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>It is possible circumstances may arise which would need my presence +in town. Do not hesitate to send for me if this should be the case.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Remembering this postscript, Mr. Parr’s subsequent conduct was not a +little odd. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch33"> +Chapter XXXIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Posters</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack</span> did not find him a pleasant travelling companion; the inspector +had brought with him a whole bundle of newspapers, in each of which he +read religiously the comments upon the Crimson Circle. His host saw +what he was reading, and was astonished that the man, phlegmatic as he +was, could find any pleasure in the uncomplimentary references to +himself which filled the journals. He said as much. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector put down a paper on his knees, and took off his +steel-rimmed pince-nez. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he said. “Criticism never did anybody any harm; it is +only when a man knows he is wrong that this kind of stuff irritates +him. As I happen to know I am right, it doesn’t matter to me what they +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“You really think you are right? In what respect?” asked Jack +curiously, but here Parr was not offering any information. +</p> + +<p> +They arrived at the little station and drove the three miles which +separated the line from the big gaunt house which had been James +Beardmore’s delight. +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s butler, who had come down to superintend arrangements for his +master’s comfort, handed a telegram to Inspector Parr almost as soon +as he put his foot across the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +Parr looked at the face of the envelope and then at the back. +</p> + +<p> +“How long has this been here?” +</p> + +<p> +“It arrived about five minutes ago; a cyclist messenger brought it up +from the village,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector tore open the envelope and extracted the form. It was +signed “Derrick Yale,” and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Come back to London at once; most important development.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Without a word he handed the message to the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you’ll go. It’s rather a nuisance; there isn’t a train +until nine o’clock,” said Jack, who was disappointed at the prospect +of losing his companion. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going,” said Parr calmly. “Nothing in the wide world would +make me take another train journey to-night. It must wait.” +</p> + +<p> +This attitude toward the summons did not somehow go with Jack’s +perception of the inspector’s character. He was, if the truth be told, +secretly disappointed, although he was glad enough that Parr would +share his first night in the house, every corner, every room of which, +seemed to have its own especial ghost. +</p> + +<p> +Parr looked at the telegram again. +</p> + +<p> +“He must have sent this within half-an-hour of our leaving the +station,” he said. “You have a telephone, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack nodded, and Parr put through a long distance call. It was a +quarter of an hour before the tinkle of the bell announced that he had +been connected. +</p> + +<p> +Jack heard his voice in the hall, and presently the detective came in. +</p> + +<p> +“As I thought,” he said, “the wire was a fake. I’ve just been on to +friend Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you guess it was a fake?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m getting almost as good a guesser as Yale,” said the detective +good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +He spent the evening initiating the young man into the mysteries of +picquet, of which Parr was a past-master. There is probably no more +fascinating card game for two in the world than this, and so +pleasantly was the evening passed, that it was with a shock that Jack +looked at the clock and found it was midnight. +</p> + +<p> +The room to which the inspector was shown was that which had been +occupied by James Beardmore in his lifetime. It was a roomy apartment, +lofty and expansive. There were three long windows, and at night the +room, as the rest of the house, was lighted by means of an +acetylene-gas plant which James Beardmore had installed. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you sleeping, by the way?” he said as he paused at the +entrance of his room, after saying good-night. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in the next room,” said Jack, and Parr nodded, closed the door, +locking it behind him. +</p> + +<p> +He heard Jack’s door shut, and proceeded to divest himself of part of +his clothing. He made no attempt to undress, but taking from his +battered suit-case an old silk dressing-gown, he wrapped it about him, +turned out the light and, walking to the windows, pulled up the three +blinds. +</p> + +<p> +The night was fairly light; there was sufficient to enable him to find +his way back to the bed, on which he lay, pulling the eiderdown over +him. There is a method by which the worst cases of insomnia-haunted +patients may obtain sleep, though it is one which I believe is very +little known. It is to attempt deliberately to keep one’s eyes open in +the dark. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr succeeded only by turning on his side and staring out of the +nearest window, which he had opened a little. +</p> + +<p> +Towards morning he rose suddenly and stepped noiselessly towards the +nearest window; he had heard a faint whirr of sound, a noise which a +smoothly-running motor-car makes, but now there was a profound +silence. He went to the washstand, and rubbed his face with cold +water, drying it leisurely. Then he walked back to the window, pulled +up a chair and sat so that he commanded whatever view there was of the +avenue leading to the front of the house. +</p> + +<p> +He had to wait nearly half an hour before he saw a dark figure steal +from the shadow of the trees, only to disappear again in a deeper +shadow. He momentarily glimpsed it again as it passed out of his range +of vision into the shadow of the house itself. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector moved softly from the room and, crossing the landing, +went down the stairs. The main door of the house was bolted and +locked, and it was some time before he could open it. When he stepped +out into the night there was nobody in sight. He crept stealthily +along the path which ran parallel with the house, but found no +intruder, and he had reached the main entrance again when he heard the +sound of the motor fading gradually—the midnight visitor had gone. +</p> + +<p> +He closed and bolted the door and went back to his room. This visit +puzzled him. It was clear that the man, whoever he was, had not seen +Parr, nor could he have been certain that he was under observation. He +must have come and gone almost immediately. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until he came down to breakfast in the morning that the +mystery of the visitation was revealed. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was standing before the fire reading a crumpled paper which +looked as if it had been posted up and torn. It was the size of a +small poster and hand-printed. Before he saw its contents, Parr knew +that it was a message from the Crimson Circle. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of this?” asked Jack, looking round as the +detective came in. “We found half a dozen of these posters pasted or +tacked on to the trees of the drive, and this one was stuck up under +my window!” +</p> + +<p> +The detective read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>Your father’s debt is still unpaid. It will remain unpaid if you +persuade your friends Derrick Yale and Parr to cease their activity.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Underneath was written in smaller characters, and evidently added as +an afterthought: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“<i>We shall make no further demands upon private individuals.</i>” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“So he was bill-posting,” said Parr thoughtfully. “I wondered why he +came and left so early.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see him?” asked Jack in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I just glimpsed him. In fact, I knew he would call, though I expected +a more startling consequence,” said the detective. +</p> + +<p> +He sat through breakfast without saying a word, except to answer the +questions that Jack put to him, and then only in the briefest fashion, +and it was not until they were walking across the meadows that Parr +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if he knows you’re fond of Thalia Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack went red. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you ask that?” he said a little anxiously. “You don’t think +they will take their vengeance on Thalia, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“If it would serve his purpose, he would wipe out Thalia Drummond like +that.” The detective snapped his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +He put an end to further conversation by stopping and turning about in +his tracks. +</p> + +<p> +“This will do,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you wanted to go to the station gate—the way Marl came to +the house that morning?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I wished to be sure how he approached the house. Can you point +out the spot where he suddenly became so agitated?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course,” said Jack readily, but wondering what it was all +about. “It was much nearer the house; in fact, I can give you the +exact spot, because I particularly remember his stepping aside from +the path and ruining a young rose tree on which he put his foot. There +is the tree—or one the gardener has put in its place.” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed, and Parr nodded his large head several times. +</p> + +<p> +“This is very important,” he said. He walked to where the ruined tree +had been. “I knew he was lying,” he said half to himself. “You cannot +see the terrace from here at all. Marl told me that he saw your father +standing on the terrace at the very moment he had his seizure, and my +first impression was that it was the sight of your father which was +responsible for his scare.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave Jack details of the conversation he had had with Felix Marl +before his death. +</p> + +<p> +“I could have corrected that,” said Jack. “My father was in the +library all the morning, and he did not come out of the house until we +were ascending the steps of the terrace.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr, note-book in hand, was making a rough sketch. On his left front +was the solid block of Sedgwood House, immediately before him were the +gardens, enclosed by light iron railings to prevent the cattle +straying on to the flower beds, and broken by the gate through which +Marl must have passed. On the right was a patch of bushes, in the +midst of which showed the gay top of a garden umbrella. +</p> + +<p> +“Dad was very fond of the shrubbery,” explained Jack. “We get high +winds here even on the warmest days, and the shrubbery affords +shelter. Dad used to sit there for hours reading.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr was slowly turning on his heel, taking in every detail of the +view. Presently he nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I have seen all there is to be seen,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +As they were walking back to the house he reverted to the midnight +bill-poster, and to Jack’s surprise: +</p> + +<p> +“That was the only false move that the Crimson Circle have made, and I +think it was very much an afterthought. That was not their original +intention, I’ll swear.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down on the steps of the terrace and stared out over the +landscape. Jack could not but think that a more uninspiring figure +than Mr. Parr he had never met. His lack of inches, his rotundity, his +large placid face, did not somehow fit in with Jack’s conception of a +shrewd criminal investigator. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got it,” said Parr at last. “My first idea was right. He was +coming down to blackmail you for the money your father did not pay. On +his way he conceived this new idea, which is hinted at in the +postscript of his message. He has decided upon some big coup, so that +the reference to myself and Yale may be genuine; and he really does +want us out of the game, though he’d be a fool if he did not know that +the likelihood of his wishes being fulfilled in that respect are +pretty remote. Let me see the poster again.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack brought it and the inspector spread it upon the pavement of the +terrace. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, this has been written in a hurry; probably written in his car, +and it is a substitute for the poster he originally intended.” He +rubbed his chin impatiently. “Now, what is the new scheme?” +</p> + +<p> +He was to learn almost immediately, for the butler came hurrying out +to say that the telephone bell had been ringing in Jack’s study for +five minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“It is you they want,” said Jack, handing the receiver to the +detective. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr took the instrument in his hands, and recognised immediately +Colonel Morton’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back to London at once, Parr; you are to attend a meeting of the +Cabinet this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr put down the receiver, and a smile spread over his big face. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m joining the Cabinet,” said Mr. Parr, and laughed as Jack had +never seen him laugh before. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch34"> +Chapter XXXIV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Blackmailing a Government</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> they reached London the evening newspapers were filled with the +new sensation. +</p> + +<p> +The Crimson Circle had indeed decided upon an ambitious programme. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly the story, as related in an official communique to the Press, +was as follows: +</p> + +<p> +That morning every member of the Government had received a +type-written document, bearing no address and no other indication of +its origin save a Crimson Circle stamped on every page. The document +ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Every effort of your police, both official and private, the genius of +Mr. Derrick Yale, and the plodding efforts of Chief Inspector Parr, +have failed to check Our activity. The full story of Our success is +not known. It has been unfortunately Our unpleasant duty to remove a +number of people from life, not so much in a spirit of vengeance, as +to serve as a salutary warning to others, and only this morning it has +been Our unhappy duty to remove Mr. Samuel Heggitt, a lawyer, who was +engaged by the late Harvey Froyant on particular work, in the course +of which he came unpleasantly close to Our identity. +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunately for the other members of his firm, he undertook that task +personally. His body will be found by the side of the railway between +Brixton and Marsden. +</p> + +<p> +“Since the police are unable to hold Us, and since We are in complete +agreement with those in authority who say that We are the most +dangerous menace to society that exists, We have agreed to forego Our +activities on condition that the sum of a million pounds sterling is +placed at Our disposal. The method by which this money shall be +transferred will be detailed later. This must be accompanied by a free +pardon in blank, so that We may, if occasion necessitates, or +hereinafter Our identity is disclosed, avail Ourselves of that +document. +</p> + +<p> +“Refusal to agree to Our terms will have unpleasant consequences. We +name hereunder twelve eminent Parliamentarians, who must stand as +hostages for the fulfilment of Our desire. If, at the end of the week, +the Government have not agreed to Our terms, one of these gentlemen +will be removed.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The first person that Parr met on his arrival at Whitehall was Derrick +Yale, and for once the famous detective looked worried. +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid of this development,” he said, “and the queer thing is +that it has come at a moment when I thought I was in a position to lay +my hand on the chief offender.” +</p> + +<p> +He took Parr’s hand in his, and walked him along the gloomy corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“This spoils my day’s fishing,” he said, and Inspector Parr +remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, to-day is the day you die! But I suppose you are reprieved +under the general amnesty which the Crimson Circle have issued,” he +said drily, and his companion laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to tell you, before we go into this meeting, that I am willing +to place myself unreservedly at your disposal,” he said quietly. “I +think you ought to know, Parr, that the present wishes of the Cabinet +are to give me an official status and place the whole of the +investigations in my charge. I have been sounded on the matter, and +have given them point-blank refusal. I am convinced that you are the +best man for the job, and I will serve under no other chief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Parr simply. “Perhaps the Cabinet will take another +view.” +</p> + +<p> +The Cabinet meeting was held in the Secretary of State’s office; all +the recipients of the Crimson Circle’s memo. were present from the +beginning, but it was some time before outsiders were called in. +</p> + +<p> +Yale was summoned first, and a quarter of an hour later the messenger +beckoned the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr knew most of the illustrious gathering by sight, and +being on the opposite side in politics, had no particular respect for +any. He felt an air of hostility as he came into the big room, and the +chilly nod which the white-bearded Prime Minister gave him in response +to his bow, confirmed this impression. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Parr,” said the Prime Minister icily, “we are discussing the +question of the Crimson Circle, which, as you must realise, has become +almost a national problem. Their dangerous character has been +emphasised by a memorandum which has been addressed to the various +members of the Cabinet by this infamous association, and which, I have +no doubt, you have read in the newspapers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not disguise from you the fact that we are profoundly +dissatisfied with the course which your investigations have taken. +Although you have had every facility and every power granted you, +including,” he consulted a paper before him, but Parr interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“I should not like you to tell the meeting what powers I have +received, Prime Minister,” he said firmly, “or what particular +privileges have been granted me by the Secretary of State.” +</p> + +<p> +The Prime Minister was taken aback. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” he said. “I will add that, although you have had +extraordinary privileges, and opportunities, and you have even been +present when the outrages have taken place, you have not succeeded in +bringing the criminal to justice.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“It was our original wish to place the matter in the hands of Mr. +Derrick Yale, who has been especially successful in tracing two of the +murderers, without, however, being able to bring the prime culprit to +justice. Mr. Yale, however, refuses to accept the commission unless +you are in control. He has kindly expressed his willingness to serve +under you, and in this course we are agreed. I understand that your +resignation is already before the Commissioners, and that it has been +formally accepted. That acceptance, for the time being, is reserved. +Now remember, Mr. Parr,” the Prime Minister leant forward and spoke +very earnestly and emphatically: “It is absolutely impossible that we +can accede to the Crimson Circle’s demands: such a course would be the +negation of all law, and the surrender of all authority. We rely upon +you to afford to every member of the Government who is threatened, +that protection which is his right as a citizen. Your whole career is +in the balance.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector, thus dismissed, rose slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“If the Crimson Circle keeps its word,” he said, “I guarantee that not +a hair of one member of your Government shall be harmed in London. +Whether I can capture the man who describes himself as the Crimson +Circle, remains to be seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said the Prime Minister, “there is no doubt that this +unfortunate man, Heggitt, has been killed.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Derrick Yale who answered. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir; the body was found early this morning. Mr. Heggitt, who +lives at Marsden, left London last night by train, and apparently the +crime was committed <i>en route</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is deplorable, deplorable.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “A +terrible orgy of murder and crime, and it seems that we are not at the +end of it yet.” +</p> + +<p> +When they came out into Whitehall, Yale and his companion found that a +large crowd had gathered, for news had leaked out that a meeting was +being held to discuss this new and extraordinary problem which +confronted the Government. +</p> + +<p> +Yale, who was recognised, was cheered, but Inspector Parr passed +unnoticed through the crowd—to his intense relief. +</p> + +<p> +Undoubtedly the Crimson Circle was the sensation of the hour. Some of +the evening newspaper placards bore a crimson circle in imitation of +the famous insignia of the gang, and wherever men met, there the +possibility of the Circle carrying their threat into effect was +discussed. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond looked up as her employer came in. The evening +newspaper was in front of her, and her chin rested on her clasped +hands, and she read every line, word by word. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick noticed the interest, and observed, too, her momentary +confusion as she folded the paper and put it away. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Drummond, what do you think of their last exploit?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is colossal,” she said. “In some respects, admirable.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“I confess I can see little to admire,” he said. “You take rather a +queer, twisted view of things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t I?” she said coolly. “You must never forget, Mr. Yale, that I +have a queer, twisted mind.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused at the door of his room and looked back at her, a long, keen +scrutiny, which she met without so much as an eyelid quivering. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you should be very grateful that Mr. Johnson, of Mildred +Street, no longer receives your interesting communications,” he said, +and she was silent. +</p> + +<p> +He came out again soon after. +</p> + +<p> +“I am probably going to establish my offices at police head-quarters,” +he said, “and realising that that atmosphere is one in which you will +not flourish, I am leaving you here in control of my ordinary +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you accepting the responsibility for capturing the Crimson +Circle?” she asked steadily. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr is in control,” he said, “but I am going to help him.” +</p> + +<p> +He made no further reference to his new task, and the rest of the +morning was spent in routine work. He went out to lunch and said he +would not be back that day, giving her instructions regarding letters +he wished despatched. +</p> + +<p> +He had hardly gone before his telephone bell went, and at the sound of +the voice at the other end, she nearly dropped the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is I,” she said. “Good morning, Mr. Beardmore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Yale there?” asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“He has just gone out: he will not be back to-day. If there is +anything important to tell him, I may be able to find him,” she said, +steadying her voice with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whether it’s important or not,” said Jack, “but I was +going through my father’s papers this morning, a very disagreeable +job, by the way, and I found a whole bunch of papers relating to +Marl.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Marl?” she said slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, apparently poor Dad knew a great deal more about Marl than we +imagined. He had been in prison: did you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could have guessed it,” said Thalia. +</p> + +<p> +“Father always put through an inquiry about people before he did +business with them,” Jack went on, “and apparently there is a lot of +explanation about Marl’s early life, collected by a French agency. He +seems to have been a pretty bad lot, and I wonder the governor had +dealings with him. One curious document is an envelope which is marked +‘Photograph of Execution’: it was sealed up by the French people, and +apparently the governor didn’t open it. He hated gruesome things of +that kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you opened it?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered in a tone of surprise. “Why do you jump at me like +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you do me a favour, Jack?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time she had ever called him by name, and she could +almost see him redden. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—why, of course, Thalia, I’d do anything for you,” he said +eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t open the envelope,” she said intensely. “Keep all the papers +relating to Marl in a safe place. Will you promise that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise,” he said. “What a queer request to make!” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you told anybody about it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I sent a note to Inspector Parr.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard her exclamation of annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you promise me not to tell anybody, especially about the +photograph?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, Thalia,” he answered. “I’ll send it along to you, if you +like.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, don’t do that,” she said, then abruptly she finished the +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +She sat for a few minutes breathing quickly, and then she rose, and +putting on her hat, she locked up the office, and went to lunch. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch35"> +Chapter XXXV.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Thalia Lunches with a Cabinet Minister</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> fourth of the month had passed, and Derrick Yale was still +alive. He commented on the fact as he came into the office which he +and Inspector Parr jointly occupied. +</p> + +<p> +“Incidentally,” he said, “I have lost my fishing.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“It is better that you lost your fishing than that we lost sight of +you,” he said. “I am perfectly convinced that if you had taken that +trip, you would never have returned.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You have a tremendous faith in the Crimson Circle, and their ability +to keep their promises.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have—to a point,” said the inspector, without looking up from the +letter he was writing. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear that Brabazon has made a statement to the police,” said Yale, +after an interval. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the inspector. “Not a very informative one, but a +statement of sorts. He has admitted that for a long time he was +changing the money which the Crimson Circle extracted from their +victims, though he was unaware of the fact. He also gives particulars +of his joining the Circle, after which, of course, he acted as a +conscious agent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you charging him with the murder of Marl?” +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t sufficient evidence for that,” he said, blotted his +letter, folded it and enclosed it in an envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you discover in France? I have not had an opportunity of +talking to you about that,” asked Yale. +</p> + +<p> +Parr leant back in his chair, felt for his pipe, and lit it before he +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“About as much as poor old Froyant discovered,” he said. “In fact, I +followed very closely the same line of investigation that he had. It +was mostly and mainly about Marl and his iniquities. You know that he +was a member of a criminal gang in France, and that he and his +companion, Lightman—I think that was the name—were condemned to +death. Lightman should have died, but the executioners bungled the +job, and he was sent off to Devil’s Island, or Cayenne, or one of +those French settlements, where he died.” +</p> + +<p> +“He escaped,” said Yale quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil he did.” Mr. Parr looked up. “Personally, I wasn’t so +interested in Lightman as I was in Marl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you speak French, Parr?” asked Yale suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Fluently,” was the reply, and the inspector looked up. “Why do you +ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no reason, except that I wondered how you pursued your +inquiries.” +</p> + +<p> +“I speak French—very well,” said Parr, and would have changed the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“And Lightman escaped,” said Yale softly. “I wonder where he is now.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a question I have never troubled to ask myself.” There was a +note of impatience in the inspector’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You were not the only person interested in Marl, apparently. I saw a +note on your desk from young Beardmore, saying that he had discovered +some papers relating to the late Felix. His father had also made +inquiries about the man. Of course, James Beardmore would. He was a +cautious man.” +</p> + +<p> +He was lunching with the Commissioner, Mr. Parr learnt, and was not at +all hurt that he was excluded from the invitation. He was very busy in +these days, selecting the men who were to form the bodyguard of the +Cabinet, and he could well afford to miss engagements which invariably +bored him. +</p> + +<p> +As it happens, his company would have been a great embarrassment, for +Yale had something to communicate to the Commissioner, something which +it was not well that Inspector Parr should hear. It was near to the +end of the meal that he dropped his bombshell, and it was so effective +that the Commissioner fell back in his chair and gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody at police head-quarters,” he said incredulously. “Why, that +is impossible, Mr. Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t say anything was impossible, sir,” he said, “but doesn’t +it seem to you that all the evidence tends to support that idea? Every +effort that we make to bring about the undoing of the Crimson Circle +is anticipated. Somebody having access to the cell of Sibly, killed +him. Who but a person having authority from head-quarters? Take the +case of Froyant: there were a number of detectives on duty round and +about the house; nobody apparently came in and nobody went out.” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner was calmer now. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us have this thing clear, Mr. Yale,” he said. “Are you accusing +Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale laughed and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course not,” he said. “I cannot imagine Parr having a single +criminal instinct. Only if you will think the matter out,” he leant +over the table and lowered his voice, “and will go into every detail +and every crime that the Crimson Circle has committed, you cannot fail +to be struck by this fact: that, hovering in the background all the +time was somebody in authority.” +</p> + +<p> +“Parr?” said the Commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale bit his lower lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to think of Parr,” he said. “I would rather think of him +as being victimised by a subordinate he trusts. You quite understand,” +he went on quickly, “that I should not hesitate to accuse Parr if my +discoveries took me in that direction. I would not even free you, sir, +from suspicion, if you gave me cause.” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissioner looked uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“I can assure you that I know nothing whatever about the Crimson +Circle,” he said gruffly, and realising the absurdity of his protest, +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that girl over there?” he pointed to a couple who were dining +in a corner of the big restaurant. “She keeps looking across toward +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That girl,” said Mr. Derrick Yale carefully, “is a young lady named +Thalia Drummond, and her companion, unless I am greatly mistaken, is +the Honourable Raphael Willings, a member of the Government and one +who has been threatened by the Crimson Circle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond?” The Commissioner whistled. “Isn’t she the young +person who was in very serious trouble some time ago? She was +Froyant’s secretary, was she not?” +</p> + +<p> +The other nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“She is an enigma to me,” he said, shaking his head, “and the greatest +mystery of all is her nerve. At this precise moment she is supposed to +be sitting in my office answering telephone calls and dealing with any +correspondence which may arrive.” +</p> + +<p> +“You employ her, do you?” asked the astonished Commissioner, and then +with a little smile, “I agree with you about her nerve, but how does a +girl of that class come to be acquainted with Mr. Willings?” +</p> + +<p> +Here Derrick Yale was not prepared to supply an answer. +</p> + +<p> +He was still sitting with the Commissioner when he saw the girl rise +and, followed by her companion, walk slowly down the room. Her way led +her past his table, and she met his enquiring glance with a smile and +a little nod, and said something over her shoulder to the middle-aged +man who was following her. +</p> + +<p> +“How is that for nerve?” asked Derrick. +</p> + +<p> +“I should imagine you’d have something to say to the young lady,” was +the Commissioner’s only comment. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale was very seldom conventional, either in his speech or his +behaviour, but for once he found it difficult to deal with a painful +situation other than in the time-honoured way. +</p> + +<p> +The girl had reached the office a few minutes before him, and she was +taking off her hat when he came in. +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, Miss Drummond,” he said. “I have a few words to say to +you before you continue your work. Why were you away from the office +at lunch time? I particularly asked you to be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mr. Willings particularly asked me to go to lunch,” said Thalia +with an innocent smile, “and as he is a member of the Government, I am +sure you would not have liked me to refuse.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come to know Mr. Willings?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him up and down with that cool, insolent glance of hers. +</p> + +<p> +“There are many ways one may meet men,” she said. “One may advertise +for them in the matrimonial newspapers, or one may meet them in the +park, or one may be introduced to them. I was introduced to Mr. +Willings.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“This morning,” she said, “at about two o’clock. I sometimes go to +dances at Merros Club,” she explained. “It is the relaxation which my +youth excuses. That is where we became acquainted.” +</p> + +<p> +Yale took some money from his pocket and laid it on the desk. +</p> + +<p> +“There is your week’s wages, Miss Drummond,” he said without heat. “I +shall not require your services after this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to reform me?” she asked him so seriously that he +was taken aback. Then he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re beyond reformation. There are many things I will excuse, and +had there been a serious shortage in the petty cash, I could have +overlooked that. But I cannot allow you to leave my office when I give +you explicit instructions to stay here.” +</p> + +<p> +She picked up the money and counted it. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly the sum,” she mocked. “You must be Scottish, Mr. Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one way that you could be reformed, Thalia Drummond.” +His voice was very earnest, and he seemed to experience a difficulty +in finding the right words. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“For a man to marry you. I’m almost inclined to make the experiment.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat on the edge of the desk and rocked with silent laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“You are funny,” she said at last, “and now I see that you are a true +reformer.” She was solemnity itself now. “Confess, Mr. Yale, that you +only look upon me as an experiment, and that you have no more +affection for me than I have for that aged and decrepit blue-bottle +crawling up the wall.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not in love with you, if that is what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did mean something of the sort,” she said. “No, on the whole, I +think I’ll take my dismissal and my week’s wages, and thank you for +giving me the opportunity of meeting and serving such a brilliant +genius.” +</p> + +<p> +He ended the conversation as though he had made some business proposal +which had been declined, and said something about giving her a +reference, and there the matter ended for him. He went into his +office, and did not even do her the honour of slamming the door after +him. +</p> + +<p> +And yet her dismissal was a serious matter for Thalia. It meant one of +two things. Either that Derrick Yale seriously suspected her—and that +was the gravest possibility to her—or else that her discharge was +only a ruse, part of a deeper plan to bring about her undoing. +</p> + +<p> +On her way home she recalled his reference to Johnson of Mildred +Street. There might be something behind that beyond the revelation of +the fact that he knew she was associated with the Crimson Circle, and +he wanted her to know he knew. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached her flat there was a letter waiting for her, as there +had been on the previous night. The controlling spirit of the Crimson +Circle was an assiduous correspondent as far as she was concerned. In +the privacy of her own room she tore open the envelope. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“You did well,” (the letter ran). “You have carried out my +instructions to the letter. The introduction to Willings was well +managed and, as I promised you, there was no difficulty. I wish you to +know this man thoroughly and discover what are his little weaknesses. +Particularly do I wish to know his attitude of mind and the real +attitude of the Cabinet towards my proposal. The dress you wore at +lunch to-day was not quite good enough. Do not spare expense in the +matter of costume. Derrick Yale is dismissing you this afternoon, but +that need not trouble you, for there is no further need for you to +stay in his office. You are dining to-night with Willings. He is +particularly susceptible to feminine charms. If possible, let him +invite you to his house. He has a collection of ancient swords of +which he is very proud. You will then be able to discover the lay of +the house.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She looked into the envelope. There were two crisp notes for a hundred +pounds, and as she put them into her little hand-bag her face was very +grave. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch36"> +Chapter XXXVI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Circle Meets</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Raphael Willings</span> was a product of his age. Though he was still +in the early forties, he had pushed himself into Cabinet rank by the +sheer force of his character. To describe him as a popular Minister +would be to stretch the truth beyond permissible bounds. He was +neither popular with his colleagues, nor with the country who, whilst +recognising his remarkable powers and acclaiming him as the greatest +of the parliamentary orators, nevertheless distrusted him. He had +given so many proofs of his insincerity that it was remarkable that he +should have attained to the position he occupied. +</p> + +<p> +But he had a number of followers. Men who were unwavering in their +faith, who could be depended upon to vote steadily at the lift of his +finger, and the Government majority was too small to risk the +exclusion of the Willings’ <i>bloc</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst his colleagues he had a bad name. It is not necessary to +particularise the circumstances which produced his reputation, but it +is a notorious fact that he escaped appearing in an unsavoury divorce +case by the skin of his teeth. So unpopular was he that twice Merros +Club and a fashionable night club of which he was a member and an +<i>habitué</i>, were raided by the police in the hope of compromising this +flighty politician. The raid had been planned by the wife of one of +his colleagues, and that Willings was not unaware of the fact, was +proved when the newspaper he owned aimed a bitter attack on the lady’s +unfortunate husband, an attack so worded, so framed, that the Minister +retired from public life. +</p> + +<p> +A well-built man inclined to plumpness, slightly bald, there was no +gainsaying his personal charm. He was under the impression that his +introduction to Thalia Drummond had been skilfully manœuvred by +himself. He would have been horrified to know that the lady who +introduced him had received instructions that morning from the Crimson +Circle to bring the introduction about. The Crimson Circle had its +agents in all branches of life and in all classes. There were +book-keepers, there was at least one railway director, there was a +doctor and three <i>chefs d’hotel</i> amongst the hundred who obeyed the +call of the Crimson Circle. They were well paid and their duties were +not onerous. Sometimes, as in this case, they had no more to do than +to bring about an introduction between two people whom the Crimson +Circle desired to meet, but in every case their instructions came to +them in exactly the same form. +</p> + +<p> +The organisation of this great force was extraordinarily complete. In +some uncanny way the chief of the Crimson Circle had smelt penury and +disaster almost as soon as the suffering recipients of these two evil +factors were aware that they were present. One by one they had been +absorbed, each ignorant of the other’s identity, and profoundly +ignorant of their master. He had come to them in strange places and +circumstances. Each had his own function to perform, and generally the +part which was played by the subordinate members of the league was +ludicrously simple and unimportant. +</p> + +<p> +A few members of the Circle had, in a panic, made statements to police +head-quarters, and from them it was learned how simple were some of +the tasks which were given out by the mystery man. +</p> + +<p> +From fear of the tragic consequences of disloyalty, the majority of +the Crimson Circle remained loyal to their unknown chief, and it was a +remarkable tribute to his system of espionage, that when he sent forth +his summons, as he did on the day Derrick Yale lunched with the +Commissioner, calling every member of the Crimson Circle to the first +meeting they had ever held, giving them the most explicit instructions +as to the garb they should wear, and the means they should adopt to +avoid disclosing themselves to their fellows, he omitted the waverers +and the malcontents as though their very thoughts were written plainly +before him. +</p> + +<p> +To Thalia Drummond that meeting will always remain the most vivid and +poignant memory of her association with the Crimson Circle. +</p> + +<p> +The city contains many old churches, but none anterior in date to the +church of St. Agnes on Powder Hill. It had escaped the ravages of the +Great Fire, only to be smothered under by the busy city which had +grown up about it. Enclosed by tall warehouses, so that its squat +steeple was absent from the sky-line, it had a congregation which +might be numbered on the fingers of two hands, although it supported +a vicar who preached punctiliously every week to a congregation which +was practically paid to attend. Once a churchyard had surrounded it, +and the bones of the faithful had been laid to peace within its +shadow, but the avaricious city, grudging so much waste building land, +had passed Acts which had removed the bones to a more salubrious +situation and had covered the place of family vaults with office +buildings. +</p> + +<p> +Entrance to the church was up an alley which led from a side passage +and the figures which slunk along the unlighted way seemed to melt +through the almost invisible doors into a gloom even thicker than the +night. +</p> + +<p> +For in the church of St. Agnes the Crimson Circle held the first and +last meeting of his servitors. +</p> + +<p> +Here, again, his organisation was marvellous. Every member of his +company had received explicit orders telling him to the very minute +when he must arrive, so that no two came together. How he obtained the +keys of the church; what careful manœuvring he must have planned to +bring the hour of meeting and the dispersal between the two periods +when the lane would be patrolled by the City police, Thalia Drummond +could only guess. +</p> + +<p> +She came into the alley-way punctually, went up the two steps to a +door which opened as she approached and was closed immediately she +entered the lobby. There was no light of any kind, save for the faint +light of night which filtered through a stained-glass window. +</p> + +<p> +“Go straight ahead,” whispered a voice. “You will take the end of the +second pew on the right.” +</p> + +<p> +There were other people in the church. She could just distinguish +them, two in each pew, a silent, ghostly congregation, none speaking +to the other. Presently the man who had admitted her came into the +church and walked to the altar rails, and at the first words she knew +that the servants of the Crimson Circle sat in the presence of their +master. +</p> + +<p> +His voice was low and muffled and hollow; she guessed he wore the veil +she had seen over his head the first night she had met him. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends,” he said, and she heard every word, “the time has come +when our society will be dispersed. You have read my offer in the +public press; and you are interested to this extent, that I intend +distributing at least twenty per cent. of the money which the +Government must eventually give me amongst those who have served me. +If there are any here who are nervous that we shall be interrupted, +let me assure them that the police patrol does not pass for another +quarter of an hour, and that it is quite impossible for the sound of +my voice to reach outside the church.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his voice a little, and there was a hard note in it when he +added: +</p> + +<p> +“And to those who may have treachery in their hearts, and imagine that +so widely announced a meeting might bring about my undoing, let me say +that it is impossible that I shall be captured to-night. Ladies and +gentlemen, I will not disguise from you that we are in considerable +danger. Facts which may enable the police to identify me have on two +occasions almost come to light. I have upon my tracks, Derrick Yale, +who I will not deny is a source of considerable anxiety to me, and +Inspector Parr”—he paused—“who is not to be despised. In this +supreme moment I do not hesitate to call upon every one of you for an +extraordinary effort of assistance. To-morrow you will each receive +operation orders prepared in such detail that it will be impossible +for you to misunderstand any particular requirement I have made known. +Remember that you are as much in danger as I,” he said more softly, +“and your reward shall be correspondingly great. Now you will pass out +of the church one by one, at thirty seconds interval, beginning with +the first two on the right, continuing with the first two on the left. +Go!” +</p> + +<p> +At intervals these dark figures glided along the aisle and vanished +through the door to the left of the pulpit. +</p> + +<p> +The man at the chancel rails waited until the church was empty and +then he, too, passed through the door into the lobby and into the +passage. +</p> + +<p> +He locked the outer door and slipped the key into his pocket. The +church clock was booming the half-hour when he called a taxi-cab and +was driven westward. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond had preceded him by a quarter of an hour, and in the +taxi which carried her to the same end of the town she brought about a +lightning transformation of her appearance. The old black raincoat +which covered her to the throat, the heavy-veiled black hat, were +taken off. Beneath it she wore a cloak of delicate silk tissue, +covering an evening dress which would have satisfied her apparently +exigent master. +</p> + +<p> +She took off her hat and tidied her hair as well as she could, and +when she stepped down at the flashing entrance of Merros Club and +handed a small attaché case to the bowing attendant, she was a +picture of radiant loveliness. +</p> + +<p> +So Jack Beardmore thought. He was supping with some friends much +against his will, for he hated the night side of life, when he saw her +come in, and scowled jealously at her debonair escort. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +Jack’s companion glanced across lazily. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know the lady,” he said, “but the man is Raphael Willings. He +is a big pot in the Government.” +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond had seen the young man before he had seen her, and she +groaned inwardly. Half of what her host said she missed; her mind was +completely absorbed in other directions, and it was not until a +familiar phrase reached her ear that she turned her interest toward +the Minister. +</p> + +<p> +“Antique swords,” she said with a start. “I’m told you have a +wonderful collection, Mr. Willings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you interested?” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“A little. In fact, quite a lot,” she said awkwardly, and it was not +like Thalia to be at a loss for a reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Could I ask you to come along to tea one day and see them?” said +Raphael. “One doesn’t often find a woman who is interested in such +things. Shall we say to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-morrow,” said Thalia hastily. “Perhaps the next day.” +</p> + +<p> +He made the appointment then and there, writing it ostensibly on his +cuff. +</p> + +<p> +She saw Jack leave the club without a look in her direction, and she +felt absurdly miserable. She did so want to talk to him and was +praying that he would come over to their table. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Willings insisted upon driving her home in his car, and she left +him with a sigh of relief. He did not harmonise with her mood that +night. +</p> + +<p> +There was a little forecourt to the flats in which she lived, and she +had dismissed her admirer (he made no secret of this relationship) in +the street outside. She had to walk a dozen paces to reach one of the +two entrances, and even before she had sent her escort away, she was +aware that a man was waiting for her in the darkened court. She stood +on the pavement until Willings’s car had moved on, and then she came +slowly toward the waiting man. He spoke for a minute in a voice that +was a little above a whisper, and she responded in the same tone. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation was of very short duration. Presently the man turned +without sign or word of farewell, and walked quickly away and the girl +entered her flat. +</p> + +<p> +Though the man made no sign, he knew he was being followed. He had +been waiting for ten minutes in the dark of the forecourt and had seen +the stealthy figure in the doorway of a closed shop opposite the +flats. Apparently, however, he was oblivious of the fact that somebody +was walking behind him, somebody who he knew would presently overtake +him and look into his face. He turned into a side thoroughfare where +the street lamps were few and far between, and as he did so he +slackened his pace. Presently the spy overtook him, choosing for the +point of passing, a place within the radius of a lamp. He had bent his +head to peer into the first man’s face when suddenly the quarry turned +and sprang at him. The trailer was taken by surprise; before he could +shout, a grip of iron was around his throat and he was flung +half-senseless to the stone pavement. And then from nowhere in +particular, appeared as by magic three men, who pounced upon the +prostrate tracker and jerked him to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +He glared round, dazed and shaken, and his eyes fell upon the man he +had been set to watch. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” he gasped. “I know you!” +</p> + +<p> +The other smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“You will never be able to employ your information, my friend,” he +said. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch37"> +Chapter XXXVII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">“I Will See You—If You Are Alive”</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack Beardmore</span> went home savage and sick at heart. Thalia Drummond +was an obsession to him, and yet he had every reason to believe the +worst of her. He was a fool, a thrice-condemned fool, he told himself +as he paced the library, his hands thrust into his pockets, his +handsome young face clouded with the gloom of despair. He felt at that +moment he would like to hurt her, punish her as she unconsciously had +punished him. He flung himself down into his chair and sat for an hour +with his head on his hands, covering the old ground which reason had +so often trodden that it had left a worn and familiar track. +</p> + +<p> +He got up sick and weary, and, opening a safe, took out a packet of +documents and flung them on the table. It was the sealed envelope +addressed to his father and unopened which interested him most, and he +had a childish desire to open it if only to spite Thalia. +</p> + +<p> +Why was she so anxious that he should not see the photograph which it +contained? Was she so interested in Marl? He remembered with a scowl +that she had spent the evening with that man on the night he died so +mysteriously. He rose, and gathering the papers together, he carried +them to his bedroom. He was so tired that he had not even the +curiosity to probe into the mystery which attached to the photograph +of an execution. He shivered at the thought of the grisly contents, +and he dropped the package on his dressing-table with a little grimace +and began leisurely to undress. +</p> + +<p> +He quite expected that he would pass a sleepless night; his emotion +and the state of his mind seemed to call for such an end to a +miserable day, but youth, if it has its anguish, has also its natural +reaction. He was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. +And then he began to dream. To dream of Thalia Drummond; and in his +dream, Thalia was in the power of an ogre whose face was remarkably +like Inspector Parr’s. He dreamt of Marl, a grotesque terrifying +figure, whom he somehow associated with Inspector Parr’s +grandmother—that “mother” of whom he stood in such awe. +</p> + +<p> +What woke him was the reflection of a light from the dressing-table +mirror. The light had been extinguished when he sat up in bed, but, +half-asleep as he was, he was certain that there had been a flash of +some kind—it was hardly the season for lightning. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” he asked, and put out his hand to reach for the lamp. +But the lamp was not there; somebody had moved it. Now he saw, and was +out of bed in a second. +</p> + +<p> +He heard a movement toward the door and ran. Somebody was in his grip, +somebody who squirmed and struggled, and then he released his hold +with a gasp. It was a woman—instinct told him that it was Thalia +Drummond. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly he put out his hand, groping for the electric switch, and the +room was flooded with light. +</p> + +<p> +It was Thalia—Thalia as white as death and trembling. Thalia who held +something behind her and met his pained gaze with a tragic attempt at +defiance. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia!” he groaned, and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia in his room! What had she been doing? +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you come?” he asked shakily, “and what are you concealing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you bring those papers up to your room?” she asked almost +fiercely. “If you had left them in your safe—oh, why didn’t you leave +them in your safe?” +</p> + +<p> +And now he saw that she held the sealed packet containing the +photograph of the execution. +</p> + +<p> +“But—but, Thalia,” he stammered, “I don’t understand you. Why didn’t +you tell me——” +</p> + +<p> +“I told you not to look at the picture. I never dreamt you would bring +it here. They have been here to-night searching for it.” +</p> + +<p> +She was breathless, on the verge of tears that were not all anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Been here to-night?” he said slowly. “Who have been here?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle. They knew you had that photograph, and they came +and burgled your library. I was in the house when they came, and +prayed—prayed”—she wrung her hands and he saw the look of anguish on +her face. “I prayed that they would find it, and now they will think +you have seen the picture. Oh, why did you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +He reached for his dressing-gown, realising that his attire was +somewhat scanty, and in the warm folds he felt a little more +assurance. +</p> + +<p> +“You are still talking Greek to me,” he said. “The thing I understand +perfectly is that my house has been burgled. Will you come with me?” +</p> + +<p> +She followed him down the stairs and into his library. She had spoken +the truth. The door of the safe hung drunkenly upon its hinges. A hole +had been cut through the shutter and it was open. The contents of the +safe lay upon the floor; the drawers of his desk had been forced open +and apparently a search had been made amongst the papers on the desk. +Even the waste-paper basket had been turned out and searched. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t understand it,” he muttered. He was pulling the heavy +curtains across the window. +</p> + +<p> +“You will understand better, though I hope you do not understand too +well,” she said grimly. “Now, please take a sheet of paper and write +as I dictate.” +</p> + +<p> +“To whom must I write?” he asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr,” she said. “Say ‘<i>Dear Inspector.—Here is the +photograph which my father received the day before his death. I have +not opened it, but perhaps it may interest you.</i>’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Meekly he wrote as she ordered and signed the letter, which, with the +photograph, she put into a large envelope. +</p> + +<p> +“And now address it,” she said. “And write on it on the top left-hand +corner, ‘From John Beardmore,’ and put after that ‘Photograph, very +urgent.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +With the envelope in her hand she walked to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall see you to-morrow, Mr. Beardmore, if you are alive.” +</p> + +<p> +He would have laughed, but there was something in her drawn face, some +message in her quivering lips, that checked the laughter on his. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch38"> +Chapter XXXVIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Arrest of Thalia</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It</span> was the seventh day following the meeting of the Cabinet, and, so +far from agreeing with the terms of the Crimson Circle, the Government +had made it known, in the most unmistakable terms, that it refused to +deal with the Circle or its emissaries. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon Mr. Raphael Willings prepared for a visitor. His house +in Onslow Gardens was one of the show places of the country. His +collection of antique armour and swords, his priceless intaglios and +his rare prints were without equal in the world. But he had no thought +of his visitor’s antiquarian interests when he made his preparations, +and he was less deterred than stimulated by a confidential document +which had come to him, intimating in plain language the character +which Thalia Drummond bore. +</p> + +<p> +Thief she might be—well, she could take any sword in the armoury, any +print on the wall, the rarest intaglio among his show cases, so long +as she was pleasant and complacent. +</p> + +<p> +When Thalia came she was admitted by a foreign-looking footman and +remembered that Raphael Willings had only Italian servants in the +house. +</p> + +<p> +Warily she surveyed the room into which she was ushered. There were +open windows at each end—which surprised her. She had expected to +find a little tête-à-tête tea table. That was missing, and yet in +this room was the cream of his collection, as she could see at a +glance. +</p> + +<p> +Willings came in a few seconds later, and greeted her warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die; perhaps to-day,” he +said melodramatically. “Have you heard the news?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the newest victim of the Crimson Circle,” he said gaily enough. +“You probably read the newspapers, and know all about that famous +company. Yes,” he went on with a laugh, “of all my colleagues I have +the honour to be the first chosen for sacrifice; <i>pour encourager les +autres</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +She could not help wondering how, in these circumstances, Ralph +Willings could preserve so unruffled a mien. +</p> + +<p> +“As the tragedy is due to occur in this house some time this +afternoon,” he was continuing, “I must ask you to extend your +kindness——” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tap at the door, and a servant came in to say something in +Italian, which the girl did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +Raphael nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“My car is at the door, if you would honour me, we will have tea at my +little place in the country. We shall be there in half-an-hour.” +</p> + +<p> +This was a development she had not looked for. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your little place in the country,” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +It was, he explained, between Barnet and Hatfield, and expatiated on +the loveliness of Hertfordshire. +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer to have tea here,” she said, but he shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, my dear young lady,” he said earnestly, “the threat of +the Crimson Circle distresses me not at all. Onslow Gardens is +‘paradise enow’ with so delightful a guest, but the police have been +to see me this afternoon, and have changed all my plans. I told them +that I had a friend coming to tea, and they suggested a more public +rendezvous. The police, however, quite approve of my alternative +scheme. Now, Miss Drummond, you are not going to spoil a very happy +afternoon? I owe you a thousand apologies, but I shall be very +disappointed if you refuse: I have sent two of my servants down to +have everything in readiness, and I hope to be able to show you one of +the loveliest little houses within a hundred miles of London.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” she said, and when he had gone, she strolled through the +room examining its fascinating contents with every appearance of +interest. +</p> + +<p> +He came back wearing his greatcoat, and found her looking at a section +of the wall which was covered with beautiful examples of the Eastern +swordmaker’s art. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re lovely, aren’t they? I’m so sorry I can’t explain the history +of them,” he said, and then in a changed tone: “Who has taken the +Assyrian dagger?” +</p> + +<p> +There was undoubtedly a blank space in the wall where a weapon had +hung, and a little label beneath the empty space was sufficient to +call attention to its absence. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering the same thing,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Willings frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps one of the servants have taken it down,” he suggested. +“Though I have given them strict instructions that they are not to be +cleaned except under my personal directions.” He hesitated, and then: +“I’ll see about that when I come back,” he said, and he ushered her +out of the room into the waiting limousine. +</p> + +<p> +She could see that the loss of his precious trophy had disturbed him, +for some of his animation had departed. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t understand it,” he said as they were passing through Barnet. +“I know the dagger was there yesterday, because I was showing it to +Sir Thomas Summers. He is keenly interested in Eastern steel work. +None of the servants would dare touch the swords.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you’ve had strangers in the room.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Only the gentleman from police head-quarters,” he said, “and I’m +quite sure he wouldn’t have taken it. No, it is a little mystery which +we can put on one side at the moment.” +</p> + +<p> +For the rest of the journey he was attentive, polite, and mildly +amusing. Not once did he give the slightest hint that he entertained +any other emotion towards her than that of a well-bred man for a +respected guest. +</p> + +<p> +He had not exaggerated the charms of his “little place” on the +Hatfield Road. In truth, it lay nearly three miles from the main road, +and was delightfully situated in the midst of rolling and wooded +country. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” he said, as he led her through a panelled hall into an +exquisitely decorated little drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +Tea was laid, but there was no servant in sight. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my dear,” said Willings, “we are alone, thank heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +His tone, his very manner had changed, and the girl knew that the +critical moment was at hand. Yet her hand did not tremble as she +filled the teapot from the steaming kettle, seemingly oblivious to all +that he was saying. She had poured out the tea and was setting his cup +in its place, when, without preliminary, he stooped over her and +kissed her; another second, and she was in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +She did not struggle, but her grave eyes were fixed steadfastly on +his, and she said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“I have something I’d like to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can say anything you wish, my dear,” said the amorous +Willings, holding her tightly, and looking into her unflinching eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Before she could speak again his mouth was against hers. She tried to +get her arm between them, and to exercise the ju-jitsu trick she had +learnt at school, but he knew something of that science. She had seen +on entering the room that at one end was a curtained recess, and +toward this he was half-lifting, half-carrying her. She did not +scream, indeed, to Raphael, she seemed more yielding than he had dared +to hope. Twice she tried to speak, and twice he stopped her. She +struggled nearer and nearer to the curtained brocade.… +</p> + +<p> +The two Italian servants were in the kitchen which was somewhat +removed from the room, but they heard the scream and looked at one +another, and then with one accord they flew into the hall. The door of +the drawing-room was unlocked: they flung it open. Near by the curtain +Raphael Willings lay on his face, three inches of Assyrian dagger in +his shoulder, and standing by him, staring down at him was a +white-faced girl. +</p> + +<p> +One of the men jerked the dagger from his master’s back, and lifted +him groaning to a sofa, whilst the other rushed to the telephone. In +his agitation the Italian who was endeavouring to staunch the flow of +blood from the wound, jabbered unintelligibly at the girl, but she did +not hear him, and would not have understood him if she had. +</p> + +<p> +Like one in a dream she walked slowly from the room, through the hall, +and into the open. +</p> + +<p> +Raphael Willings’s car was drawn up some distance from the front of +the house, and the chauffeur had left it unattended. +</p> + +<p> +She looked round; there was nobody in sight; then all her energies +awakened, and she sprang into the driver’s seat and pressed the plug +of the starter. With a whine and a splutter the engines started up, +and she sent the car flying down the drive—but here was an obstacle. +The iron gates at the end were closed, and she remembered that the +chauffeur had had to get down to unlock them. There was no time to be +lost. She backed the car, then sent it full speed at the gates. There +was a smashing of glass, a crash as the gates broke, and she was in +the road with a damaged radiator, lamps twisted beyond recognition, +and a mudguard that hung in shreds. But the car was moving, and she +set it spinning in the direction of London. +</p> + +<p> +The hall porter of the flats in which she lived did not recognise her, +she looked so wild and changed. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you well, miss?” he asked as he took her up in the lift. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +Once behind the door of her flat she went straight to the telephone +and gave a number, and to the man who answered, she poured forth such +a wild, incoherent story, a story so punctuated by sobs, that he found +it difficult to discover exactly what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m through, I’m through,” she gasped. “I can do no more! I will do +no more! It was horrible, horrible!” +</p> + +<p> +She hung up the receiver, and staggered to her room, feeling that she +was going to faint unless she took tight hold of herself; hours passed +before she was normal. +</p> + +<p> +And it was in that condition that Mr. Derrick Yale found her when he +called that evening—her old calm, insolent self. +</p> + +<p> +“This is an unexpected honour,” she said coolly, “and who is your +friend?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the man who was standing behind Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond,” said Yale sternly. “I have a warrant for your +arrest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again?” she raised her eyebrows. “I seem always to be in the hands of +the police. What is the charge?” +</p> + +<p> +“Attempted murder,” said Yale. “The attempted murder of Mr. Raphael +Willings. I caution you that what you now say may be taken down, and +used in evidence against you.” +</p> + +<p> +The second man stepped forward and took her arm. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond spent that night in the cells of Marylebone Police +Station. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch39"> +Chapter XXXIX.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">A Prison Diet</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">As</span> to what happened, I have yet to learn,” said Derrick Yale to a +silent but attentive Inspector Parr. “I arrived at Onslow Gardens just +after Willings had taken the girl away. The servants at the house were +rather reluctant about giving me information, but I soon discovered +that she had been taken to Willings’s house in the country. Whether +she enticed him or he lured her is a matter for discovery. Probably he +is under the impression that she went against her will. All along I +have suspected Thalia Drummond as being something more than a servant +of the Crimson Circle; naturally I was a little alarmed and flew off +to Thetfield, arriving at the house just after she had left. She +escaped in Willings’s car, smashing the lodge gates <i>en route</i>; by the +way—that girl has got nerve.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is Willings?” +</p> + +<p> +“He will recover; the wound is superficial, but what is significant is +the proof that the crime was premeditated. Willings only missed the +dagger with which he was stabbed this afternoon, after he had left the +girl alone in his armoury whilst he put on his overcoat. He thinks she +must have carried it in her muff, and that, of course, is very likely. +He gives me no very clear account of what were the events which +immediately preceded the stabbing.” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m,” said Inspector Parr. “What sort of a room was it? I mean, the +room where this nearly—occurred?” +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty little drawing-room communicating with what Willings calls +his Turkish room. It is a marvellous replica of an Eastern interior, +and I should imagine the scene of more or less disreputable +happenings—Willings hasn’t the best of reputations. It is only +separated from the drawing-room by a curtain, and it was near the +curtain that he was found.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr was so absorbed in his meditation that his companion thought +he had gone to sleep. But the inspector was not asleep; he was very +wide awake. He was conscious of the appalling fact that once more +whatever kudos attached to the latest of the Crimson Circle’s outrages +went to his companion, and yet he did not grudge him the honour. +</p> + +<p> +Without warning he delivered himself of a sentiment which seemed to +have no bearing whatever upon the matter they were discussing. +</p> + +<p> +“All great criminals come to grief through trifling errors of +judgment,” he said oracularly. +</p> + +<p> +Yale smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“The error of judgment in this case, I presume, being that they didn’t +kill our friend Willings—he is not a nice man, and I should imagine +of all the members of the Cabinet he could best be spared. But I for +one am very grateful that these devils did not get him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not referring to Mr. Willings,” said Inspector Parr rising +slowly. “I am referring to a stupid little lie told me by a man who +really should have known better.” +</p> + +<p> +And with this cryptic utterance, Mr. Parr went off to break the news +to Jack Beardmore. +</p> + +<p> +It was typical of him that Jack was the first person who came to his +mind when he learnt of Thalia Drummond’s arrest. He was fond of the +boy, fonder than Jack could guess, and he knew, even better than Yale, +how heavily the weight of Thalia Drummond’s guilt would lie upon the +man who loved her. +</p> + +<p> +Jack had already received his shock. The news of the girl’s arrest had +been published in the stop-press columns of the late editions, and +when Parr arrived he was the picture of desolation. +</p> + +<p> +“She must have the best lawyers procurable,” he said quietly. “I don’t +know that I ought to take you into my confidence, Mr. Parr, because +you naturally will be on the other side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally,” said the inspector, “but I’ve got a sneaking regard for +Thalia Drummond, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“You?” said Jack in astonishment. “Why, I thought——” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m human,” said the inspector. “A criminal to me is just a criminal. +I have no personal grudge against the men I have arrested. Truland, +the poisoner, whom I sent to the gallows, was one of the nicest +fellows I’ve ever met, and I got quite fond of him after a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk of poisoners and Thalia Drummond in the same breath,” he +said testily. “Do you honestly believe she is the leading spirit of +the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr pursed his thick lips. +</p> + +<p> +“If somebody came to me and told me the Archbishop was the leading +light, I shouldn’t be surprised, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “By the time +this Crimson Circle business is settled, we are all going to have +shocks. I started my investigations prepared to believe that anybody +might be the Crimson Circle—you, or Marl, the Commissioner or Derrick +Yale, Thalia Drummond—almost anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you still hold that opinion?” asked Jack with an attempt at a +smile. “For the matter of that, Mr. Parr, you yourself might be the +villain of the piece.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr did not deny the possibility. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother thinks——” he began, and this time Jack did actually laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Your grandmother must be a remarkable personality; has she views on +the Crimson Circle?” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector nodded vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“She always has had, since the first murder. She put her finger down +on the very spot, Mr. Beardmore, but mother always could do that sort +of thing. I’ve had my best inspirations from her; in fact, all +the——” He stopped himself. +</p> + +<p> +Jack was amused, but he was pitying, too. This man, so ill-equipped by +nature for his work, had probably won himself a high place in the +police service by dogged unimaginative persistence. In every service +men had reached near to the top with no other merit than their +seniority. It was just a little fantastic at this moment, when the +keenest brains were exercised to lay this bizarre association by the +heels, to hear this stout man talking solemnly of the advice he had +received from his grandmother! +</p> + +<p> +“I must come along and renew my acquaintance with your aunt,” said +Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“She has gone into the country,” was the reply, “and I’m all alone. A +woman comes in every morning to clean the place, but there’s nobody +there evenings—it doesn’t seem like home to me now.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a relief to Jack to get on to the subject of Mr. Parr’s +domestic affairs. Their very unimportance was a sedative to his racked +mind. He felt that an evening spent with the inspector’s knowledgeable +grandparent might even restore him to something like normality. +</p> + +<p> +Parr himself led the conversation back to more serious channels. +</p> + +<p> +“Drummond will be brought up to-morrow and remanded,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any hope of getting bail for her?” +</p> + +<p> +Parr shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No. She’ll have to go to Holloway, but that won’t do her much harm,” +he said, heartlessly, as Jack thought. “It is one of the best prisons +in the country, and maybe she’ll be glad of the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“How came Yale to arrest her? I should have thought that was your +job?” +</p> + +<p> +“I instructed him,” said Parr. “He has now the status of a regular +police officer, and as he had been in the case earlier in the day, I +thought I would let him continue it to the end.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as the inspector had foreshadowed, the police-court proceedings +of the next day were confined only to evidence of arrest, and Thalia +Drummond was remanded in custody. +</p> + +<p> +The court house was packed, and a big crowd, attracted by the +sensational character of the charge, filled all the roads approaching +the court. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Willings was not well enough to attend, but well enough to send +his resignation to the Cabinet in response to the Prime Minister’s +suggestion, contained in a letter couched in such unpleasant +terms—and the acidulated vocabulary of the Prime Minister was +notorious—that even he, the thick-skinned Willings, was pained. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever happened, he was everlastingly disgraced; even the thick and +thin supporters of his policy would be revolted by the evidence he +must give. He had taken the girl—a comparative stranger—to his +country house, made violent love to her, and had been stabbed. There +could be no romantic version of that unpleasant story; and he heartily +cursed himself for his stupidity. +</p> + +<p> +Parr made one call upon the girl whilst she was in prison. She refused +to see him in her cell, and insisted upon the interview taking place +in the presence of a wardress. She explained her attitude when they +sat together in the big gaunt waiting-room of the gaol, he at one end +of the table and she at the other. +</p> + +<p> +“You must excuse my not seeing you in my apartment, Mr. Parr,” she +said. “But so many promising young emissaries of the Crimson Circle +have met with an untimely end through interviewing policemen in their +cells.” +</p> + +<p> +“The only one I can recall,” said Parr stolidly, “is Sibly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was a shining example of indiscretion.” +</p> + +<p> +She showed her even white teeth in a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what do you want of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to tell me what happened when you called at Onslow +Gardens.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him a faithful and a detailed account of that afternoon +visit. +</p> + +<p> +“When did you discover the dagger was gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“When I was looking round the room whilst Willings was putting on his +coat. How is Lothario?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s all right,” said Parr. “I am afraid he will recover—I mean,” he +added hastily, “I am glad to say he’ll get better. Was that the first +time Willings noticed the absence of the dagger?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you carry a muff?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said. “Is that the place where the deadly weapon was +supposed to be concealed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you have your muff in your hand when you went into his house at +Hatfield?” +</p> + +<p> +She thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she nodded. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr rose. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re getting all the food you require?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes: from prison,” she said emphatically. “Prison food will suit me +very well, thank you, and I do not want anybody, out of mistaken +kindness, to send in luscious dishes from outside, as I understand +prisoners on remand are allowed.” +</p> + +<p> +He scratched his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re wise,” he said. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch40"> +Chapter XL.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Escape</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> outrage upon Raphael Willings had produced something like a +panic in the Cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Parr learnt how profound was the concern when he returned to +head-quarters. And the Prime Minister was justified in his anxiety. +The Crimson Circle had not stated when the next blow would fall, or +upon whom. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector was sent for to Downing Street, and was closeted with +the Prime Minister for two hours. It was the first personal +consultation he had had, and it was followed by a meeting of the inner +Cabinet, a fact that was duly recorded in the newspapers. +</p> + +<p> +It was said, but without authority, that the life of the Prime +Minister had been threatened, and this statement was neither denied +nor affirmed. +</p> + +<p> +Derrick Yale, returning to his flat that night, found Inspector Parr +waiting on the door-mat. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything wrong?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I want your help,” said Parr, and did not speak again until he was +sitting in a comfortable chair before the fire in Yale’s sitting room. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, Yale, that I’ve got to go, and the Prime Minister is +considering the advisability of my going a little sooner than I had +expected. There has been a Cabinet committee appointed, and they are +calling into question the methods which head-quarters are employing +and I have been asked by the Commissioner to attend an informal +meeting at the Prime Minister’s house to-morrow evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the idea?” asked Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m to give a sort of lecture,” said Parr gloomily, “and explain to +the members of the Cabinet the methods I have employed against the +Crimson Circle. You probably know that I have been given unusual +powers, and that I have not been asked to tell the Government all I +know. I intend doing that on Friday evening, and I want your help.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear chap, you have it before you ask it,” said Yale warmly, and +Parr went on. +</p> + +<p> +“There is still a lot about the Crimson Circle that is a mystery to +me, but I am piecing it together. At the moment I am under the +impression that there is somebody at police head-quarters who is +working with them.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my view, too,” said Yale quickly. “Why do you say that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the slow Parr, “I’ll give you an instance. Young +Beardmore had a photograph that he found in his father’s papers and +this was posted to me. It arrived all right, with the seal of the +envelope intact, but when I opened it, there was a blank card. I have +since discovered that he gave that card to Thalia Drummond to post; he +swears he stood on the doorstep and watched her slip it into the +letter-box on the opposite side of the road. If that is the case, the +envelope must have been tampered with after it reached head-quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of a photograph?” asked the other curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“It was either a picture of an execution or the condemned man +Lightman, for I think it was taken on the occasion when they tried to +execute Lightman and failed. It came to old man Beardmore the day +before his death—a great number of things seem to have happened to +the victims of the Crimson Circle the day before their death—and was +found by Jack and, as I say, sent on——” +</p> + +<p> +“By Thalia Drummond!” said Yale significantly. “My view is that you +can exonerate the people at head-quarters. This girl is deeper in the +Crimson Circle than you imagine. I searched her house to-night—that +is where I’ve been, and this is what I found.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out into the hall and returned with a brown paper parcel, +opened it, and the inspector stared. +</p> + +<p> +A gauntlet glove and a long bright-bladed knife were exposed when Yale +cut the string and stripped away the paper wrapping. +</p> + +<p> +“This glove is a fellow to that which was found in Froyant’s study. +The knife is an exact pair to the other.” +</p> + +<p> +Parr took up the gauntlet and examined it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, this is the left hand, and the one on Froyant’s desk was the +right,” he agreed. “It is a worn motor-glove. Who was the owner? Try +your psychometric powers, Yale.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve already tried,” said the other, shaking his head, “but the glove +has passed through so many hands that the impressions I receive are +very confused. At any rate, this discovery confirms the theory that +Thalia Drummond is in the business up to her neck. As to the other +matter you were speaking about,” he said, as he wrapped the knife and +glove carefully in the paper, “I shall be most happy to assist you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I want from you,” said Parr, “is that you shall fill in the +spaces which I cannot fill,” he shook his head. “I only wish mother +could be there,” he said regretfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother?” said the astonished Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“My grandmother,” said Mr. Parr soberly. “The only detective in +England—bar you and I.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that Derrick Yale ever had reason to suspect +that Mr. Parr possessed a sense of humour. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +It was typical of that period of excitement, when the name of the +Crimson Circle was on every tongue, that sensation should follow +sensation. But probably no incident created so much excitement as that +which, in scrawling headlines, greeted Derrick Yale as, sitting in bed +sipping his tea, he read the newspaper the following morning! +</p> + +<p> +Thalia Drummond had escaped! +</p> + +<p> +People escape from prison in works of fiction; they have been known to +make a temporary get-away from dread Dartmoor, but never before in the +history of the prison service had a woman escaped from Holloway. And +yet the wardress unlocking the door of Thalia Drummond’s cell in the +morning found it empty. +</p> + +<p> +It took a great deal to shock Derrick Yale, but the news temporarily +paralysed him. He read the account of the escape word by word, and in +the end he was as mystified as ever. +</p> + +<p> +But there it was in cold print, officially admitted, and communicated +to the early morning press by the Government with unnatural haste. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“Owing to the unusual importance of the prisoner, and the character of +the offence alleged against her, extraordinary precautions were taken +to guard her. The patrol which usually visits the ward in which her +cell was situated, was doubled, and instead of hourly, half-hourly +visits were paid by the officers on duty. It is not customary to look +into every cell on these occasions, but at three o’clock this morning +the wardress—Mrs. Hardy—looked through the observation hole and saw +the prisoner was there. At six o’clock when the cell door was opened, +Drummond was missing. The bars of the window were intact, and the door +had not been tampered with. +</p> + +<p> +“A search of the prison grounds showed no trace of her footsteps, and +it is almost impossible that she could have escaped over the wall. It +is equally impossible that she could have left by the ordinary means, +since it would have necessitated her passing through six separate +doors, none of which had been forced, or through the gate-keeper’s +lodge, which is occupied throughout the night. +</p> + +<p> +“This new proof of the Crimson Circle’s omnipotence and extraordinary +powers is very disconcerting, coming, as it does, at a moment when the +lives of Cabinet Ministers are threatened by this mysterious gang.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Yale glanced at the clock. It was half-past eleven. And then he looked +at the newspaper and saw that his servant had brought him an early +edition of one of the evening papers. He was out of bed in a second +and, not waiting for breakfast, rushed off to head-quarters, to find +Inspector Parr in a very good humour, considering all the +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is incredible, Parr, it is impossible! She must have friends +in the prison!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is my idea entirely,” said Parr. “I told the Commissioner in the +identical words that she must have friends in the prison. Otherwise,” +he said after a pause, “how did she get out?” +</p> + +<p> +Yale looked at him suspiciously. It did not seem the moment or the +occasion for flippant talk, and Inspector Parr’s tone was undoubtedly +flippant. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch41"> +Chapter XLI.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Who is The Crimson Circle?</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Yale</span> learnt no more details than those he had already read, and took +a taxi to his city office, which he had not visited for two days. +</p> + +<p> +The escape of Thalia Drummond was a much more important affair than +Parr seemed to think. Parr! An awful thought occurred to Derrick Yale. +John Parr! That stolid, stupid-looking man—it was impossible! He +shook his head, yet put his mind resolutely to the task of piecing +together every incident in which Inspector Parr had figured, and in +the end: +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” he muttered again, as he walked slowly up the stairs to +his office, declining the invitation of the lift-boy. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing he noticed when he unlocked the door was that the +letter-box was empty. It was a very large letter-box, with a patent +flap device, designed so that it was impossible for an outside +pilferer to extract any of its contents. The wire cage reached almost +to the floor, and letters that came through the slot in the door had +to fall through revolving aluminium blades, which made the letter +thief’s task a hopeless one. And the letter-box was empty! There was +not so much as a tradesman’s circular. +</p> + +<p> +He closed the door quietly and went into his own room. He took no more +than a pace into the interior and then stopped. Every drawer in his +desk was open. The little steel safe by the side of the fireplace, +concealed from view by the wooden panelling, had been unlocked, and +the door was now open. He looked under the desk. There was a tiny +cupboard, which only an expert could have found, and here Derrick Yale +had kept the more intimate documents connected with the Crimson Circle +case. +</p> + +<p> +He saw nothing but a broken panel and the mark of the chisel that had +wrenched it free. +</p> + +<p> +He sat for a long time in his chair, staring out of the window. There +was no need to ask who was the artist. He could guess that. +Nevertheless, he made a few perfunctory inquiries, and the lift boy +supplied him with all the information he needed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, your secretary has been this morning, the pretty young +lady. She came in soon after the offices were open. She was only here +about an hour, and then she left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she carry a bag?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. A little bag,” said the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Derrick Yale, and went back to head-quarters, to +pour into the phlegmatic Mr. Parr’s ear a tale of rifled desk and +stolen documents. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’m going to tell you, Parr, what I have told nobody else, not +even the Commissioner,” said Yale. “We think of the Crimson Circle +organisation as being run by a man. I happen to know that this girl +has met the man who initiated her into the mysteries of the gang, +whatever they are. But I also know that, so far from being the master, +this mysterious gentleman in the motor-car, takes his orders, as +everybody else does, from the real centre of the organisation—which +is Thalia Drummond!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord!” said the inspector. +</p> + +<p> +“You wonder why I had her in my office? I told you it was because I +thought she would bring us closer to the Circle. And I was right.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why dismiss her?” asked the other quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because she had done something which merited dismissal,” said Yale, +“and if I had not fired her then and there, she would have known that +I was keeping her in my office with an object. I might have saved +myself the trouble, apparently,” he smiled, “because this morning’s +work proves that she knew what my game was.” His thin, delicate face +darkened, and then he said almost sharply: “When you have told your +story to-night to the Prime Minister and his friends, I have a little +story to tell which I think will surprise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing you can say will ever surprise me,” said Mr. Parr. +</p> + +<p> +The third shock which Derrick Yale received that day came on his +return home. The first half of his surprise was to find that his +servant was out. The one woman he employed did not sleep on the +premises, but she was supposed to remain in the flat until nine +o’clock in the evening. It was exactly six when Derrick Yale came in +to find the place in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +He turned on the light and made a tour of the rooms. Apparently, the +sitting-room was the only apartment which had been disturbed, but +here, whoever the intruder had been and he could guess her name, she +had been very thorough and painstaking. It was not necessary for him +to seek out the servant and discover what had happened. She had been +called away from the house by a message purporting to come from +him—he guessed that much. And whilst she was away Thalia Drummond had +examined the contents of the flat at her leisure. +</p> + +<p> +“A clever young woman!” said Derrick without malice, for he could +admire even the genius which was employed against himself. She had +lost no time. Within twelve hours she had broken gaol, ransacked both +his office and his flat, and had removed documents which had a vital +bearing upon the Crimson Circle. +</p> + +<p> +He dressed himself leisurely, wondering what would be her next move. +Of his own he was certain. Within twenty-four hours Inspector Parr +would be a broken man. From a drawer in his dressing-room he took a +revolver, looked at it for a moment speculatively, and slipped it into +his hip pocket. There was going to be a startling and a sensational +end to the chase of the Crimson Circle, an end wholly unforeseen by +the spectators of the tragic game. +</p> + +<p> +In the wide lobby of the Prime Minister’s house he found a guest, the +excuse for whose presence he could not fathom. Jack Beardmore had +certainly been a sufferer from the activities of the Crimson Circle, +but he had no part in the latter incidents. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you are surprised to see me, Mr. Yale,” laughed Jack, as he +took the other’s hand, “but you’re not more surprised than I am to be +invited to a meeting of the Cabinet.” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“Who invited you?—Parr?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be exact, the Prime Minister’s secretary. But I think Parr must +have had something to do with the invitation. Don’t you feel scared in +this company?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very,” smiled Derrick, slapping the other on the back. +</p> + +<p> +A youthful private secretary bustled in and ushered them into the +severe drawing-room, where a dozen gentlemen were talking in two +groups. +</p> + +<p> +The Prime Minister came forward to meet the detective. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspector Parr has not arrived.” He looked questioningly at Jack. “I +presume this is Mr. Beardmore?” he said. “The inspector particularly +asked that you should be present. I suppose he has some light to throw +upon poor James Beardmore’s death—by the way, your father was a great +friend of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector came in at that moment. He wore a dress suit which had +seen better days, a low collar with an awkwardly-tied bow, and he +seemed an incongruous figure in that atmosphere of intellect and +refinement. Following him came the grey-moustached Commissioner, who +nodded curtly to his junior and led the Prime Minister aside. +</p> + +<p> +The two were engaged in a whispered conversation for a little time, +and then the colonel came across to where Yale was standing with Jack. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any idea what sort of a lecture Parr is going to give?” he +said, a little impatiently. “I was quite under the impression that he +was making a statement by invitation, but from what the Prime Minister +tells me, it was Parr who suggested he should give the history of the +Crimson Circle. I hope he isn’t going to make a fool of himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think he will, sir.” It was Jack’s quiet voice that had +interrupted, and the Commissioner looked at him inquiringly until Yale +introduced the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with Mr. Beardmore,” said Derrick Yale. “I have not the +slightest expectation of Mr. Parr making a fool of himself, in fact, +I think he is going to fill up a number of gaps and bridge over +seemingly irreconcilable circumstances, and I am ready to fill in a +number of spaces which he may leave blank.” +</p> + +<p> +The company seated itself, and the Prime Minister beckoned the +inspector forward. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll stay where I am,” he said. “I’m not an +orator, and I should like to tell this yarn as if I were telling it to +any one of you.” +</p> + +<p> +He cleared his throat and began speaking. At first his words were +hesitant and he paused again and again to find the right phrase, but +as he warmed to his subject he spoke more quickly and lucidly. +</p> + +<p> +“The Crimson Circle,” he began, “is a man named Lightman, a criminal +who committed several murders in France, was condemned to death, but +was saved by an accident from execution. His full name is Ferdinand +Walter Lightman, and on the date of his attempted execution his age +was twenty-three years and four months. He was transported to Cayenne, +and escaped from that settlement after murdering a warder, and it is +believed got away to Australia. A man answering his description, but +giving another name, was working for a storekeeper in Melbourne for +eighteen months, and was afterwards in the employment of a squatter +named Macdonald for two years and five months. He left Australia in a +hurry, a warrant having been issued against him by the local police +for attempting to blackmail his employer. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened to him subsequently we have not been able to trace +until there appeared in England an unknown and mysterious blackmailer +who signed himself the Crimson Circle, and who, by careful +organisation and a display of remarkable patience and energy, gathered +around him a large number of assistants, all of whom were unknown to +one another. His <i>modus operandi</i>” (the inspector stumbled at the +phrase) “was to find out somebody in a responsible position, who was +either in need of money or in fear of prosecution for some offence +which he or she had committed. He made the most careful inquiries +before he approached his recruit, who was finally interviewed in a +closed car driven by the Crimson Circle himself. Usually the +rendezvous was one of the London squares which had the advantage of +having four or five exits and a further advantage of being poorly +lighted. You gentlemen are probably aware that the residential squares +of London are the worst illuminated streets in the metropolis. +</p> + +<p> +“Another class of recruit the Crimson Circle was very eager to secure +was the convicted criminal. In this way he dragged in Sibly, an +ex-sailor of a particularly low intelligence, who was already +suspected of having committed murder, and who was the very man for the +Crimson Circle’s purpose. In this way he secured Thalia Drummond——” +he paused—“a thief, and an associate of thieves. In this way, too, he +found the black man who murdered the railway director. For his own +purpose he put in Brabazon the banker, and would have taken Felix Marl +only, unfortunately for Marl, they had been associated together in the +very crime for which Lightman nearly lost his life. More unfortunate +still, Marl recognised Lightman when he met him in England, and this +is the reason why Marl was eventually destroyed, the murderer +employing perhaps the most ingenious method that has ever been used by +a homicidal criminal. +</p> + +<p> +“You can well understand, gentlemen,” he went on. They were following +the little man with strained interest. “The Crimson Circle——” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did he call himself Crimson Circle?” It was Derrick Yale who +asked the question, and for a little while the inspector was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“He called himself Crimson Circle,” he said slowly, “because it was a +name he had amongst his fellow convicts. About his neck was a red +birth-mark—and I’ll blow the top of your head off if you move!” +</p> + +<p> +The heavy calibre Webley he held in his hand covered Derrick Yale. +</p> + +<p> +“Put your hands right up!” said the inspector, and then suddenly he +reached out his hand and tore away the high white collar which covered +Yale’s neck. +</p> + +<p> +There was a gasp. Red, blood-red, as though it were painted by human +agency, a circle of crimson ran about the throat of Derrick Yale. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch42"> +Chapter XLII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">Mother</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In</span> the room three men had mysteriously appeared—the three who had +captured Parr’s spy two nights before—and in a second Yale was +manacled hand and foot. A deft hand jerked the pistol that he carried +from his pocket, a third man dropped a cloth bag over his head and +face, and he was hurried from the room. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Parr wiped the perspiration from his streaming forehead, and +faced his amazed audience. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” he said a little shakily, “if you will excuse me for +to-night I will tell you the whole of this story to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +They surrounded him, plying him with questions, but he could only +shake his head. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s had a very bad time,” it was the colonel’s voice, “and nobody +knows it better than I. I should be very glad, Prime Minister, if you +could accede to the inspector’s request, and allow the further +explanation to stand over until to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps the inspector will lunch with us,” said the Premier, and his +Commissioner accepted on Parr’s behalf. +</p> + +<p> +Gripping Jack’s arm Parr marched from the room and into the street. A +taxi-cab was awaiting him and he bundled the young man in. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel that I’ve been dreaming,” said Jack when he had found his +voice. “Derrick Yale! Impossible! And yet——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is possible all right,” said the inspector with a little +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Then he and Thalia Drummond were working together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But, inspector, how did you get on to this story?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother put me on to it,” was the unexpected answer. “You don’t +realise what a clever old lady mother is. She told me to-night——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she’s come back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she’s come back,” said the inspector. “I want you to meet her. +She’s a bit dogmatic, and she is inclined to argue, but I always let +her have her way in that respect.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you may be sure I shall, too,” laughed Jack, though he did not +feel like laughing. “You really believe that the Crimson Circle is in +your hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it,” said the inspector. “As sure as I’m sitting in this +taxi-cab with you, and as sure as I am that grandmother is the wisest +old lady in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack maintained a silence until they were turning into the avenue. +</p> + +<p> +“Then this means that Thalia is dragged a little lower?” he said +quietly. “If this man Yale is, as you believe, the Crimson Circle, he +will not spare her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m certain of that,” said the inspector; “but, lord bless you, Mr. +Beardmore, why trouble your head about Thalia Drummond?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I love her, you damned fool!” said Jack savagely, and +instantly apologised. +</p> + +<p> +“I know I’m a bit of a fool,” the inspector spoke, between gusts of +laughter, “but I’m not the only one in London, Mr. Beardmore, believe +me. And if you’ll take my advice you’ll forget that Thalia Drummond +ever existed. And if you’ve got any love to spare, why, give it to +mother!” +</p> + +<p> +Jack was about to say something uncomplimentary about this paragon of +a grandmother, but suppressed his desire. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector’s maisonette was on the first floor, and he went up the +stairs ahead, opened the door and stood for a moment in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Hello, mother,” he said. “I’ve brought Mr. Jack Beardmore to see +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack heard an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Mr. Beardmore, come in and meet mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Jack stepped into the room and stood as if he had been shot. Facing +him was a smiling girl, a little pale and a little tired looking, but +undoubtedly, unless he were mad or dreaming, Thalia Drummond! +</p> + +<p> +She took his outstretched hand in hers and led him to the table, where +a meal for three was laid. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy, you told me you were going to bring the Commissioner,” she +said reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy?” stammered Jack. “But you told me she was your grandmother.” +</p> + +<p> +She patted his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy has developed a sense of humour, which is very distressing,” +she said. “I’m always called ‘mother’ at home, because I’ve mothered +him ever since my own dear mother died. And that story about his +grandmother is nonsense, but you must forgive him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father?” said Jack. +</p> + +<p> +Thalia nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Thalia Drummond Parr, that is my name. Thank goodness, you aren’t a +crime investigator, or you would have made inquiries and discovered my +ghastly secret. Now eat your supper, Mr. Beardmore; I cooked it +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +But Jack could neither eat nor drink until he had learnt more, and she +proceeded to enlighten him. +</p> + +<p> +“When the first of the Crimson Circle murders occurred and daddy was +put into the case, I knew that he had a tremendous work in front of +him and that the chances were he would fail. Daddy has a lot of +enemies at head-quarters, and our Commissioner asked him not to take +the case, knowing how difficult it was going to be. You see, the +Commissioner is my godfather,” she added smilingly, “and naturally he +takes an interest in our affairs. But daddy insisted, though I think +he regretted it the moment he had taken it on. I have always been +interested in police work, and just as soon as father got behind the +Crimson Circle organisation and knew the methods that the Circle +employed to gather its recruits, I decided to start upon a career of +crime. +</p> + +<p> +“Your father received the first threat three months before it was put +into execution. It was two or three days afterwards that I secured a +post as secretary to Harvey Froyant, for no other reason than that his +estate adjoined yours. He was a friend of your father, and it gave me +an opportunity of watching. I tried to get employment with your +father. Perhaps you don’t know that,” she said quietly, “but I failed. +Even more dreadful, I was in the wood when he was killed.” She +squeezed his hand sympathetically. “I didn’t see who it was who fired +the shot, but I flew forward to where your father was lying, only to +discover that he was beyond help, and then, seeing you through the +trees running across the meadows toward the wood, I thought I had +better get away. The more so,” she added, “since I had a revolver in +my hand at the time, for I had seen a man stalking in the wood and I +had gone in to investigate. +</p> + +<p> +“With the death of your father there was no longer any need for me to +remain in the service of Mr. Froyant. I wanted to get closer to the +Crimson Circle, and I knew the best way to attract the attention of +the man who controlled the gang was for me to embark on a criminal +career. It was not providential that you were passing the pawnshop +when I came out after pledging Mr. Froyant’s golden image. My father +manœuvred that, and when he described me as a thief and an associate +of crooks, it was to create an atmosphere, which would impress Derrick +Yale, or Ferdinand Walter Lightman, to give him his real name. There +was no danger of my being sent to prison. The magistrate treated me as +a first offender, but my reputation was gone, and immediately after, +as I expected, I received a summons to meet the head of the Crimson +Circle. +</p> + +<p> +“I met him one night in Steyne Square. I think daddy was watching me +all the time and shadowed me back to the house. He was never far away, +were you, darling?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only at Barnet,” he shook his head. “I was scared there, mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“My first task as a member of the Crimson Circle was to go to +Brabazon. You see, Yale’s method was to set one member to spy upon +another. Mr. Brabazon puzzled me. I was never quite sure whether he +was straight or crooked, and of course I had no idea at first that he +was a member of the gang. I had to begin stealing again in order to +sustain my character. It brought down on me a reprimand from my +mysterious chief, but it served a useful purpose, for it brought me +into contact with a gang of crooks and led unconsciously to my being +present in Marisburg Place when Felix Marl also died. +</p> + +<p> +“Yale’s object in employing me was to divert suspicion from himself. +Besides which, he had intended a very pretty ending to my youthful +life. The night he killed Froyant I was ordered to be in the vicinity +of the house with a similar knife and the fellow gauntlet to that +which Yale used himself in his dreadful crime.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you escape from prison?” asked Jack. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with amusement in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You dear boy,” she said, “how could I escape from prison? I was let +out by the governor in the middle of the night and escorted to my home +by a respectable inspector of police!” +</p> + +<p> +“We wanted to force Yale’s hand, you see,” explained Parr. “As soon as +he knew that mother was out he got rattled and began to hurry his +preparations for flight. When he found that his office had been +burgled he was pretty sure that Thalia was something more than he had +dreamt she was.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch43"> +Chapter XLIII.<br> +<span class="chap_sub">The Story Continued</span> +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Jack</span> went to the luncheon party the next day and so, too, did +Thalia, who had played such a part, and was the public heroine of the +hour. After lunch the inspector completed his story. +</p> + +<p> +“If you take your minds back, gentlemen, you will remember that the +name of Derrick Yale had never been heard until the first of the +Crimson Circle murders. It is true that he had established himself in +a city office, that he had issued circulars, had put advertisements in +the paper describing himself as a psychometric detective, but the +cases which came to him were very few. Of course, he did not want any +cases. He was working up to his big coup. It was after the first +murder, you remember, that Derrick Yale was employed by a newspaper, +which wanted a good sensational story, to employ his psychometric +powers in the tracking of the criminal. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knew better than Yale the name of the murderer and how the murder +was committed? You remember that he was able to reconstruct the crime +by feeling the weapon with which it was committed. And, in +consequence, a black man was arrested, in exactly the spot where +Derrick Yale said he would be. Naturally when these facts were +disclosed Yale’s reputation rose sky-high. It was the very situation +that he expected. He knew now that a man threatened by the Crimson +Circle would be inclined to call in his assistance, and that is just +what happened. +</p> + +<p> +“By being near his victims and gaining their confidence—for Yale was +a most convincing type of man—he was able to urge them to pay the +demands of the Crimson Circle, and if they refused he was on hand to +encompass their death. +</p> + +<p> +“Froyant might not have died, and certainly would not have died at +Yale’s hands, but for the fact that, annoyed by losing so much money, +he made inquiries himself. Starting on a hypothesis which was based +upon the faintest suspicion, he worked up the case against Derrick +Yale, and was able to identify Lightman and Derrick Yale as one and +the same person. On the night of his death he sent for us, intending +to make this disclosure, and as a proof that he was in some fear he +had two loaded revolvers by his hand, and it is well known that +Froyant disliked intensely the employment of firearms. +</p> + +<p> +“And you will remember, if you have read the official minutes of the +case, the Commissioner rang up Froyant in response to a call which +Harvey Froyant had put through. That call gave Yale his opportunity. +It was an excuse for Froyant sending us out of the room. I went first, +never dreaming that he would dare do what he did. When we went into +the room we wore our overcoats, and I particularly noticed that +Derrick Yale kept his hand in his pocket. On the hand, gentlemen,” he +said impressively, “was a motor-driver’s gauntlet, and in that hand +was the knife that slew Froyant.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did he wear the glove?” asked the Prime Minister. +</p> + +<p> +“In order that his hand, which I should see immediately afterwards, +should not be bloodstained. The moment my back was turned, he lunged +straight at Froyant’s heart, and Froyant must have died instantly. He +slipped off the glove and left it on the table, walked to the door, +and seemed to be carrying on a conversation with a man who was already +dead. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew this had happened, but I had no proof. He had brought my +daughter there, intending to get her into the house, which we +immediately searched, with the intention of accusing her of the crime. +But she very wisely went no farther than to the back of the house and +then, suspecting his plot, went home. But I am anticipating. Amongst +the people whom we had to guard was James Beardmore, and James +Beardmore was a land speculator, a man who knew all kinds of people, +good and bad. That day he was expecting a visit from Marl, whom he had +never seen, and he mentioned Marl’s name earlier in the day to his +son, but not to Derrick Yale. As Marl came toward the house the last +person in the world he expected to see was his fellow criminal of +Toulouse Gaol, a man whom he had betrayed to his death. +</p> + +<p> +“Derrick Yale must have been standing at the end of the shrubbery, and +Marl caught a momentary glimpse of him and went back to the village, +ostensibly to London, in a panic of fright, determined, in his fear, +that he would kill Lightman before Lightman killed him. His courage +must have oozed. He was not a particularly brave man, and instead he +wrote a letter to Yale, pushing it under his window—a letter which +Yale read and partially burnt. What the letter was I cannot tell you, +except it was probably a statement that if he, Marl, was left alone, +he would leave Yale alone. He could not have known in what capacity +Mr. Derrick Yale was posing. The words ‘Block B’ undoubtedly referred +to the Block at Toulouse Prison. +</p> + +<p> +“From that moment Marl was a doomed man. He was conducting a little +blackmail of his own with Brabazon, an agent of the Crimson Circle, +and Brabazon must have intimated the danger to Yale who, in his +capacity as detective, visited the shop to which all the Crimson +Circle letters were addressed, and on the pretext of aiding justice +opened them of course and saw their contents, without having the +responsibility of being the person to whom they were addressed. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Brabazon’s intention to bolt on the day following Marl’s +murder, and with that object he had cleared out the whole of Marl’s +balance and had made preparations for flight. On Marl’s death +suspicion naturally fell upon him and, intimated by the Crimson Circle +that he was in danger, he hurried off to the riverside house which we +searched.” +</p> + +<p> +Detective-Inspector Parr chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“When I say ‘we searched it,’ I mean Yale searched it. In other words, +he went into the room where he knew Brabazon was, and came down +reporting that all was clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is one point I’d like you to clear up—the chloroforming of +Yale in his office,” said the Prime Minister. +</p> + +<p> +“That was clever, and deceived me for a moment. Yale handcuffed, +strapped and chloroformed himself after he had put the money in an +envelope and dropped it down the letter-chute—it was addressed to his +private residence. Do you remember, sir, that the postman left the +building, having cleared the box, a few minutes after the ‘outrage’? +Unfortunately for Yale, I had let Thalia into the room and put her +into the cupboard, where she witnessed the whole comedy and retrieved +the chloroform bottle which he had put into a drawer of his desk.” +</p> + +<p> +“The last victim, Mr. Raphael Willings,” here Parr spoke very clearly +and deliberately, “owes his life to the fact that he conceived an +unhealthy attachment for my daughter. She was struggling with him, +when, looking over her shoulder, she saw a hand come from behind the +curtain holding the very knife that had been stolen earlier in the day +by Yale (again in his capacity as detective). It was aimed at Mr. +Willings’s heart, but by a superhuman effort, she thrust him aside, +but not so far as to save him completely. Yale, of course, was on hand +to discover the outrage (I should imagine he was very annoyed when he +found it was not a murder), and of course he had no difficulty in +fixing it upon mother—upon Thalia Drummond Parr. +</p> + +<p> +“Consider the cleverness of his operations!” said Parr admiringly. “He +had thrust himself into the front rank of private detectives, so that +he was on hand to receive information which was invaluable to him as +the Crimson Circle. He was eventually taken to police +head-quarters—at my suggestion—where the most important documents +came under his notice. Some of them were not quite as important as he +thought, but it saved Mr. Beardmore’s life when Yale had the first +handling of a photograph of himself taken a few moments before the +abortive execution. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen, are there any other points that you wish cleared up? +There is one I will clear up which is probably not obscure. Two days +ago I told Yale that great criminals are usually brought to their end +through ridiculous mistakes. Yale had the effrontery to tell me that +he had called at Mr. Willings’s house after he had left and that the +servants had told him where Thalia and Willings had gone. That alone +was sufficient to damn him, because he had not been near Willings’s +house since the morning, and had arrived at the country place at least +an hour before the servants had come.” +</p> + +<p> +“The question that disturbs me for the moment,” said the Prime +Minister, “is what reward we can give to your daughter, Mr. Parr? Your +promotion is of course an easy matter to arrange, for there is an +assistant-commissionership vacant at this moment; but I don’t exactly +see what we can do for Miss Drummond, except of course to give her the +monetary reward which is due for having brought about the capture of +this dangerous criminal.” +</p> + +<p> +Then a husky voice spoke. It sounded to Jack as though it were his, +and the rest of the people about the table seemed to be under the same +impression. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need to bother about Miss Parr,” said this strange voice, +that was speaking Jack’s thoughts, “we are getting married very soon.” +</p> + +<p> +When the buzz of congratulation had subsided, Inspector Parr leant +toward his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t tell me, mother,” he said reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t even tell him,” she said, looking at Jack wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say he hasn’t asked you to marry him?” demanded her +amazed father. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she said, “and I haven’t told him I would marry him either, but +I had a feeling that something like this would happen.” +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * * * +</p> + +<p> +Lightman, or Yale, as he was best known, was an exemplary prisoner. +His only complaint against the authorities was that they would not let +him smoke on his way to his execution. +</p> + +<p> +“They order these things much better in France,” he said to the +governor. “Now, the last time I was executed——” +</p> + +<p> +To the chaplain he expressed the warmest interest in Thalia Drummond. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a girl in a million!” he said. “I suppose she will marry +young Beardmore—he is a very lucky fellow. Personally, women arouse +very little enthusiasm in me, and I ascribe my success in life to this +fact. But if I were a marrying man, I think Thalia Drummond would be +the very type I should search for.” +</p> + +<p> +He liked the chaplain because the padre was a big human man who could +talk interestingly on places and things and people, and Derrick Yale +had seen most of the fascinating places in the world. +</p> + +<p> +On a grey March morning a man came into his cell and strapped his +hands. +</p> + +<p> +Yale looked at him over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever heard of M. Pallion? He was a member of your +profession.” +</p> + +<p> +The executioner did not reply, being by etiquette forbidden to discuss +other matters than the prisoner’s forgiveness for the deed which was +about to be committed. +</p> + +<p> +“You should find out something about Pallion,” said Yale, as the +procession formed, “and profit by his example. Never drink. Drink was +my ruin! If it were not for drink I should not be here!” +</p> + +<p> +This little conceit kept him amused all the way to the scaffold. They +slipped the noose about his neck and covered his face with a white +cloth, and then the executioner stepped back to the steel lever. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope this rope won’t break,” said Derrick Yale. +</p> + +<p> +It was the last message from the Crimson Circle. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. court-house/court house, +fireplace/fire-place, jailor/jailer, etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Fix a couple quotation mark pairings. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter I] +</p> + +<p> +Change “The <i>dèbris</i> of the dead autumn whirled in fantastic +circles” to <i>débris</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter III] +</p> + +<p> +(in her even tone. “<i>something</i> which you haven’t realised.) to +<i>Something</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter IX] +</p> + +<p> +(“<i>Mr</i> Beardmore,” she said in a low voice, “you are just being) to +<i>Mr.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXI] +</p> + +<p> +(“Good morning, Miss Drummond,”) change the second comma to a period. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXII] +</p> + +<p> +“which was found afterwards to contain the poison,” change comma to a +period. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXXV] +</p> + +<p> +“and realising the absurdity of his protest, laughed,” change the +second comma to a period. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XLIII] +</p> + +<p> +(as the procession formed. “and profit by his example.) change the +first period to a comma. +</p> + +<p> +“Never drink, Drink was my ruin! If it were not for drink” change +the first comma to a period. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76257 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76257-h/images/cover.jpg b/76257-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..56bcc1c --- /dev/null +++ b/76257-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5dba15 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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